Addiction
by twilightstargazer
Summary: Addiction is a condition that results when a person engages in an activity that can be pleasurable but the continued use of which becomes compulsive and interferes with ordinary life and responsibilities. James Potter is an Addiction. A dangerous one at that too. And you know that.
1. What You Know

**_Disclaimer: I'm not the blonde amazing woman who wrote this series. I'm an incredibly strange, brunette teenager._**

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**Addiction**

James Potter is an addiction.

He was some kind of mysterious foreign drug that one looked on upon from afar. A dark, twisted untouchable drug that can and will have you hooked at the first hit. No matter how large the dosage, you couldn't resist. You had to come back for more. You know it's wrong, but in a sick sort of way, it's so, _so_ right. You continue to come back all the time until he cuts you off permanently. Then it's into the withdrawal syndrome. You try everything you can to get back in, clawing desperately at every available option just to get your daily fix. But he doesn't. After you've been cut off he doesn't spare you a second glance. He passes you in the hall with his mates and doesn't even acknowledge you. During dinner he asks you to pass the pumpkin juice and he calls you by someone else's name. You can practically hear your heart shatter into a thousand crimson shards. It makes it sort of official now.

James Potter has tossed you over.

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You watch what he does and swears that you'll never do something like that; God knows you've seen what happened to the other girls. Hear them crying at night as they thought that they were actually special, not knowing that he only sees them as some sort of plaything. You know that he doesn't give a fuck about anyone else except himself. You know this so well, that it's almost painful.

James Potter is untouchable.

You pity the poor girl who was the unfortunate soul that stumbled into his clutches that week. You pity them, but you never sympathize with them. You're the good girl. No matter how many times he invites you, you decline. That's not what you're here for. You're here for your education; not to sit around in your free time, accept shots from him and get high out of your mind. No matter how many girls he goes through, no matter how many times he offers you a hit with that infuriating smirk, no matter how many times he claims to have changed, you don't give in. Because if there's one thing you know for sure it's that you should stay away from him.

James Potter is incredibly and sinfully dangerous.

And you know that.

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**_Hey guys! This is just a little drabble that I had swirling around in my mind. I'm thinking of turning it into a multi-chapter story, but I'm not to sure. Do you think I should? Or should I just leave it as a oneshot? Leave your thoughts in a review! Pretty please! It's economical and environmentally friendly! :)_**

**_~twilightstargazer_**


	2. The First Hit

**_Hope you guys like it. :)_**

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**Chapter 1- First Hit**

It begins with the first hit.

It's just after Gryffindor had won the Quidditch cup under the captaincy of James Potter. The game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was so pathetic that it was almost comical. The Gryffindors only needed to win by a margin of at least twenty pointy points to ensure that they won the cup, but they ended up hammering the Ravenclaws in to the ground. The final score was four hundred and twenty to seventy, in favour of the scarlet and gold clad team. So to say that the house members were happy would be an understatement.

They were positively ecstatic.

The customary victory party had started immediately after the game and it was sure to go on well in to the night and early morning. The common room is packed with people, everyone chatting, laughing and generally having a good time. Music was blasting from an enchanted wireless, and everyone was on the makeshift dance floor dancing without a care in the world. The only thing that mattered to them was this moment right here, right now. It was the time to dance and get drunk, forgetting that there was war raging outside even if it's just for a minute. It was the time to take a swig out of the bottle and snog your long time crush. It was the time for the teenagers to just be teenagers.

You were sitting there quietly to the side, silently enjoying the festivities. You had opted for a simple Butterbeer instead of all the fancy alcoholic drinks that were being served at the bar. You were watching all the couples lose themselves in the music before retiring with their giggling partner to the dormitories. You probably should have stopped them, you being a prefect and all, but you didn't. Let them have some fun before the nasty hangover hit the next morning. You all had won the Quidditch cup after all. You could manage to turn a blind eye towards it for one night.

So you sit there, sometimes by yourself or sometimes chatting with your friends. The girls and you had decided to play a little game of truth or dare for a while. When it was your turn you chose dare, feeling a bit bold. After sharing identical evil grins, one of them, Marlene, your best friend, gets up and heads over to the bar. She comes back with a shot glass filled with a clear concoction wearing a bright smile. She slaps it down in front of you and the order you to drink it. With a sigh you pick up the drink and give it a cautious sniff. There's a distinct smell of alcohol emanating from it. Giving them the sourest look you could muster, you steel your nerves and toss the drink towards the back of your throat like an expert. Your eyes water and your throat burns as the liquid makes its way down to you stomach. You can already feel the buzz in your bloodstream.

You all continue to play the game, going several more rounds before they disperse leaving you once again, although this time they leave you slightly tipsy. You're not drunk though. You only had to take two shots. One for the dare and one to 'loosen her up a bit more,' as it were put by Mary. You weren't slurring, you could walk a perfectly straight line without stumbling and you were perfectly aware of yourself, both physically and mentally. The only thing that the alcohol did was loosen your tongue a bit and killed off a bit of your rationality. Other than that you were fine.

Remus Lupin, fellow sixth year and Gryffindor prefect, came over to talk to you. You like Remus. He has a dry sense of humour and always discusses intelligent topics with you. You probably would have dated him if you didn't love him as a brother.

He wants you to come and dance for a while. It takes some persuading on his part, but he finally convinces you to get off your bum and head to the dance floor. You blame it on the part of rationality that was killed off a little while ago.

It was fun, you muse, the dancing. You eventually let go of you inhibitions and give in to the power of the music. Soon enough you're not dancing with Remus anymore. Instead you're being moved from guy to guy after each song. You probably dance with everyone fifth year and up. When you've finally caught yourself, you're dancing with Sirius Black, who isn't all that bad. Apparently the alcohol hadn't only gotten to you, as you stood there with Black for three full songs as he told you his life story. You could sympathize with him at some points, especially when he said that he was different than anyone else in his family and considered to be an outcast. The name Petunia rings in your mind. You all continued dancing, stopping briefly for him to get you a drink. He brings back some sort of red creation for you. You stare at him incredulously and tell him that you're not drinking. He just laughs and shoves the drink in your hand anyway.

You roll your eyes. Black never really understood the term 'not drinking.' Especially at Quidditch after parties.

You take a cautious sip of it, just enough to gauge the flavour. It has a distinct strawberry taste to it, so much so that it almost tastes like a muggle slushy. But you know that this is not a kids' drink. After you get over the general strawberry-ness of it, there's the underlying taste of alcohol left on your tongue, slowly sending the buzz back into your bloodstream. You drink it out in about ten minutes before you go and get another one. In the space of an hour you've probably downed four of the mysterious strawberry drink.

You're more than a bit tipsy now, giggling at everything that moves (and even some that didn't; you vaguely recall spending fifteen minutes laughing at a vase of flowers) and tripping ever so often. Sirius is amused by your behaviour of course. He laughs as he leads you over to one of the arm chairs, saying that you need some time to gather your bearings. You probably giggle in response again. He leaves you and goes off to search for another dance partner.

So you sit there, trying to reign in you sense, but it's to no avail. The music is too loud, people are moving all over and the smell of alcohol fills the air. You decide that some fresh air is just what you need, so you muster up your strength and try to make it across the Common room in one piece. It's a difficult task, as you bump in to two dancing couples and a table (although, in your defence, you could have sworn that the table was at least three feet away from you. It probably moved.)

Once you manage to scramble through the portrait hole, you sigh in relief. The noise from the Common room was nearly silenced and there was no one there but you. You walk (stumble) towards one of the large windows and sit on the ledge. The air is cool and crisp, lacking the scent of alcohol, something that you're very grateful for. You sit there and watch outside, admiring the night sky. The only light in the hallway is that from the little sliver of the moon and the stars that dotted the velvety black night sky. It's all very pretty and soon enough, you lose yourself in thought.

You're so engrossed that you didn't even hear when the Fat Lady swung open as it let someone out. The only way you realized that someone was there was when they spoke.

"Evans?" says a low voice.

You close your eyes and slowly turn around. Even in your drunken miasma you could recognize that voice.

Standing there was James Potter. The bane of your existence. You were about to tell him off for being out of the Common room after hours, when you realized that it would have been a little hypocritical as you were outside also. Not to mention that the Common room was ten feet away.

"Can I help you Potter," you say, your voice slightly cold.

"What're you doing out here?"

"Fresh air; what about you?"

"Same I guess," he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I think I drunk a bit too much back there."

"What a coincidence," you murmur sardonically. "I did that exact same thing."

His eyes widens behind his glasses. "You drink?"

"Of course I drink," you snap. "What seventeen year old doesn't?"

"It's just that I never thought you were for that kind of thing."

"I'm not a prude, if that's what you're implying," you hiss as you cross your arms. "I've had my fair share of shots, debauchery and trouble. Probably not as much as you and the others, but enough."

"I never meant to say that you were a prude," he backtracks quickly. "It's just odd, you know. To hear that you, _a prefect_, were drinking."

"Remus drinks."

"Remus is a Marauder first and prefect second."

"Well technically I didn't choose to drink tonight."

One of his eyebrows rose. You always hated when someone did that, just because you couldn't. If you tried to raise an eyebrow then its buddy will be going up right along with it. "No? Then how come you did?"

"My friends and Sirius," you reply airily.

"Did they force it down your throat?"

"Well no-"

"Then you got drunk all by yourself."

"They gave me they drink in the first place."

"You can always say 'no' Evans. I think you've had enough practice with me."

"Well the first one was a dare," you say defensively.

He shrugs. "So?"

"So? It was a dare! You can't say no to a dare unless you want to run around the Common room in your bra and knickers!" you state exasperatedly.

He gives you a roguish grin. "All the better reason to say no."

"You're a prat Potter."

"Thank you Evans. It's my goal in life to achieve ultimate prattishness." He says it solemnly, though you could clearly see the mirth twinkling in his eyes and the slight twitch of his lips.

"Come closer so I could slap you," you command.

He laughs, but nonetheless crossed over to where you were sitting. However, he was still out of your reach.

You pout. "You're still too far away. Come up on the ledge." You scoot around to give him some space.

"You really are drunk," he marvels as he sits down opposite you. The ledge isn't exactly big, so both of your knees are knocking together.

"Why do say that?"

"Because a sober Lily Evans would never ask me to sit next to her, not even if she was under the Imperious curse," he says dryly.

You kick him and smirk triumphantly when he sucks in a breath. "That is not true."

"It is true. How many drinks have you had?" He asks you as he passes a hand through his hair.

You shrug. "About six or seven. Probably more."

His jaw drops as he gapes at you incredulously. "And you're not slurring your words? Impressive Evans."

You roll your eyes. "I didn't have them completely straight. Only two of them were just alcohol. The others were mixed."

"Ah," he says sagely. "That explains why you are fully coherent."

"How much have _you_ drunk then?" you return.

"Four glasses of Firewhisky and about five other ones," he says nonchalantly.

"You're the drunk one here," you say victoriously.

He snorts. "Please; I could hold my liquor thank you very much. It takes a lot to get me drunk."

You make a big show of giving him a once over before you say, "Oh yes, because a completely sober person would button their shirt wrong."

"Shit," he swears as he glanced down. "That was not me. This happened when Karen Walker tried to rip my shirt off and snog me." He fumbles with his shirt, trying to see in the limited light.

You laugh this time, and lean over to help him. Only after you've undone three buttons do you realize your situation. You're leaning across James Potter in an empty hallway while unbuttoning his shirt. If anyone catches you, helping him is not going to be the first thing that comes to mind.

You quickly unbutton the rest, trying not to stare too much at his chest. He is definitely not the skinny beanpole that he once was. He has _muscles_. You almost sigh as you button back the shirt, hiding more and more of his chest as it you go lower. Once you finish, you make a mistake and look up his face. It's practically three inches away from your own and his eyes are filled with an undecipherable emotion.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?" he asks again, his breath ghosting over your face. There's the scent of Firewhisky coming off of it, along with some sort of spice. It's intoxicating on a whole new level. Unintentionally, your eyes flutter shut and you lean in a bit.

You eyes are still closed when his lips lightly brush against yours, hardly even touching. But, after that, there's no other contact. You open you eyes and look at him, confused.

James looks conflicted. Like on one hand he wants to snog the living daylights out of you while on the other he doesn't, or, more appropriately, can't.

What you do next, no one saw coming. Not even you.

You blame it one the fact that you've had six drinks and part of your rationality is dead. Anyone without one hundred percent rationality cannot be held responsible for what they did. Especially whilst under the influence of alcohol and James Potter.

You lean in while he was still battling his inner demons and kiss him.

It wasn't anything big and grand. It was a light chaste kiss that didn't last for more than a second. But you were still a tad bit breathless when you pulled away.

His eyes were still closed, and you could see that you've clearly stunned the boy with your impromptu kiss. When his eyes flutter open he's wearing the most peculiar expression and his hazel irises were darkened, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You can feel yourself blushing and the fact that you've just kissed James Potter, Hogwarts most notorious playboy and Marauder does not go unnoticed. You hop down from the ledge, leaving him still staring at you.

Neither of you make a sound. There's nothing to say. The atmosphere is awkward and tense. You say nothing except the password to get in to the common room.

Once back inside, you're immediately assaulted by the deafening music. Despite being drunk, you manage to make it across the room to where the bar is. You instantaneously grab a cup of Firewhiskey and down it in one shot. You need to forget what just happened. You repeat with two more cups, but it's to no avail. The memory still rings out crystal clear.

Growling angrily, you scan around the room for Mary or Marlene. You spot them in a corner flirting with two Hufflepuffs. You quickly make your way over to them, ignoring the fourth year you accidently walked in to. James Potter isn't back inside as yet. God forbid he comes over and wants to, you cringe just by thinking of the word, _talk_ about what happened. You hate talking. You hate feelings. You especially hate talking about feelings.

You rudely pull away Mary and Marlene, telling the Hufflepuffs to get back to their common room.

The girls were about to object, but one look at your face has them agreeing with you. They can practically see the 'I've done something completely wrong and I'm only acting calm even though I want to scream and cry' expression. Without swapping any words, the three off you hurry up the girls' staircase and into the sixth year dorms.

Locking the door, Mary turns to you and asks, "What happened?"

"I kissed James Potter," you blurt out. Both of them stare at you as though you've grown another head. You can understand their shock. You and James Potter are nothing short of enemies.

"What?" Marlene gasps after some time.

"I kissed him. And it wasn't as though he was the one who initiated it," you mumble, biting your lip, "I started it."

"But Lily," says Mary, "I thought you hated him."

"I do!" you protest. "I was drunk- probably still am- and I don't know, one minute we're bickering and the next he's on the ledge with me and I'm kissing the boy!"

You're hysteric at this point, the fact that you've kissed James Potter has finally crashed in to you and you're panicking. Mary pats your head murmuring condolences while Marlene rummages around her trunk, pulling out a slab of Honeydukes best. She breaks off an edge and offers it to you. You grab it and nibble on it.

"What am I going to do?" you mumble hopelessly through a mouthful of chocolate.

"Well," Mary tells you, "You can admit that you were a tad bit drunk right?" You nod. "Well use that to your advantage! Pretend that you can't remember anything from this night tomorrow morning. Say that you were drunker than you thought."

"I don't know Mare…" Marlene says hesitantly, but Mary ignores her.

You nod slowly as you shakily stand up. "It- it could work."

"Are you guys sure you want to do this? It could end horribly," Marlene protested.

"Oh, bollocks Marley," Mary scoffs. "Stop being so pessimistic."

"I'm not being pessimistic; I'm being realistic," Marlene counters. They continue to bicker back and forth for a few more minutes until you butt in.

"Guys," you start, "Look, it may or not work, but we won't know until we try. I'll pretend I can't remember anything tomorrow and pray that it works. Go back down to the party. If he asks anything say that you haven't spoken to me."

They both nod before leaving you alone in the dorm. You shower and get ready for bed, trying to push all thoughts of the hazel eyed Quidditch captain out of your mind. You crawl in to be and pull the hangings shut around you.

You know that you shouldn't have done it; it was wrong.

So why does your traitorous mind keep on replaying the moment when two of your lips connected? Why did you get all tingly when he looked at you afterwards?

Why do you want to do it again?

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**_So what did you guys think of it? I was sort of hesitant in making this a multi chapter story because only two people reviewed and told me to continue. I hope you don't mind the writing style. It's way different from my usual third person style, but I've never written in second person before so I decided to give it a shot. Hope it wasn't too bad._**

**_Got any questions? Ask me in a review, PM me or ask me on tumblr (see profile for link)_**

**_~twilightstargazer_**

**_:)_**


	3. Permanent High

**_Thank you to my amazing reviewers from the last chapter. CrescentMoon12, nacho5, May B. XD and my two guest reviewers. And the person who messaged me on tumblr to tell me what I good job I did. I love you all. :)_**

**_Warning: This chapter is a bit hotter than the previous chapter, so keep that in mind if you're not into that sort of stuff._**

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**Chapter 2- Permanent High**

You manage to avoid him for nearly two weeks, something that was considered a great feat because he always seems to know where you are all the time. The morning after the party, you played the part of a hungover teenager perfectly. You went down to the Great Hall pretending that you had a horrible headache and couldn't remember a thing from the night before. You only got a glimpse of his expression. Was he frowning? When you took a second look, this time longer, he was alright again, laughing with Sirius.

You make sure to slip in to class right as the bell rang and be the first to leave. If you had time between classes you hid out in the loo until it was time to go. You spend your free periods in the girls' dorms or in the back of the library. You still go to the Great Hall for your meals, but you make sure to sit with your friends, far, _far_ away from the Marauders and him. When you're in there, you try to eat as fast as possible to avoid people. Most days you end up in the kitchens, eating what's left over from dinner because you hardly ate anything the meal before. All in all, the only people who you talk to are your friends, the house elves and teachers.

You can more or less admit that you're being pathetic.

You don't know what you'd do if he were to confront you about what happened on the ledge. Every time you think about it your lips tingle and you blush. You can't help but stare at him during classes, fantasizing about kissing him again. Of course, reality catches up with you and you chide yourself for thinking like that.

He's James sodding Potter. You'll only get hurt in the end.

You successfully manage to avoid him for nearly two weeks. At this point you're confident that you can manage another two, just up until the end of the term. Then you'll have two blissful Potter free months. You almost sigh with content at the thought. Two weeks until you go home to your parents and Petunia. You're not particularly chuffed about seeing Petunia and having to deal with her snide comments, but you'll put up with her for the sake of your dad. He had taken ill the summer before you fifth year and had never quite fully recovered. The doctors said that he had lung cancer, but it was only a mild case. He should be fine if he takes the pills that were prescribed to him. You always miss your dad when you come back. He's the one who's always on your side no matter what. When you left after your Easter Break was finished, he was perfectly fine and healthy. No one would have known that he had cancer unless they looked closely. You're confident that he would recover.

You're also happy about going back home because last week you passed your apparition test. You won't have to worry about asking Petunia to drive you places anymore. You can simply apparate and disapparate whenever you please.

"Lily," Mary says as she fixed her eyeliner, "Are you coming down for dinner? Or are you still doing this ridiculous avoiding thing?"

"It's not ridiculous," you say apathetically.

She gives you a withering look. "It is ridiculous. He's just a boy! Not an army of inferi!"

"Mary, if I go to the Great Hall would you stop insulting my plan?" you ask exasperatedly.

She takes a moment to consider it. "Maybe…"

You roll your eyes, smiling slightly at her. "Go," you say as you push her gently towards the door. "Go before Marley throws a fit about having to wait on you."

"Alright, I'm going," Mary says, laughing. "But if you're not down there for at least desert, I'm going to stun you and drag your unconscious body down to the Great Hall. Got it?"

"Love you too, Mary," you say dryly, heading towards the vanity.

She quickly leaves. You quietly pass a brush through your hair, pulling it back into a ponytail when there's a tap on the window. Frowning, you turn around and see your little grey owl, Athena, fluttering in front of it. This makes you confused. How come she didn't come this morning with the other owls?

You open the window for her to fly in. You remove the letter from her leg, petting her head as you open the letter. Inside, there were two pieces of parchment. The first one you pull out was from your mother. However, the handwriting wasn't her customary neat, loopy script; instead, it was a quick messy scrawl on a ripped piece of parchment.

_Lily,_

_Your father's back in the hospital. The doctors said that his cancer had progressed. He might not make it for Christmas_

_-Mum_

Your hands clench around the letter as you stand there in shook.

He said it was getting better. He said that you needn't had to worry. He said that he was fine.

You vaguely away of a choked, sobbing sound coming from somewhere inside the room. With a start, you realise that it's you who's making the pathetic sound. You raise a shaky hand to your face, only to find wetness on your cheeks.

You're _crying_.

Within seconds it all crashes down upon you. Your dad… he's dying… cancer had progressed… might not make it for Christmas.

Various bits of the letter floats around your head as you gasp and sob.

He's dying.

The same man who helped you ride your first bike. The same man who sits up watching movies with you all night. Who lets you sneak all the chocolate ice cream up in to your room. Who's your partner in crime. Who comforts you after a horrible row with Petunia.

He's dying.

You don't know where you're going; your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as the lead you down the stairs. You don't know how you get out the portrait hole or how you came to be running as various portraits pass you in a blur.

He's dying.

That's the only thought running through your mind at the moment. You have no idea where you are. You have no idea if anyone sees you, if you accidently hit anyone. You're just… running.

Eventually you stop, and as far as you can see, you're somewhere the west wing. You're close to the Astronomy tower. Without thinking, you climb up to the top. It's pitch black up there, no light except that provided from the moon, but even then it was still limited. You don't really mind, it's quiet up there and the chances of someone finding you were slim to none. You stumble over to a wall and slide down, crying.

You bring hands up to wipe your eyes, only to find the crumpled up pieces of parchment. One was the letter from your mother, but you didn't even look at the other as yet. You smoothen it out and find small precise cursive. You immediately know that it's Petunia and you're torn between reading whatever it is that she wrote and tossing the letter aside, knowing that it is bound to have insults directed at you. Eventually, your curiosity gets the better of you and you read the letter.

_Freak,_

_Dad's dying. I don't know what mum wrote in her letter but I know that she would try to sugar coat it. I don't think you deserve to have it sugar coated. He's dying and we all know it. Mum was crying while she tried to write the stupid letter to you. Dad told her not to, probably because it would bother you. Maybe if you were here instead of over there doing circus tricks we wouldn't have to have Mum crying. You're a witch. That's why you're always away, isn't it? To learn to control your freak powers? Why can't you use your freaky powers for good and heal him? I don't understand why you were his favourite. You never do anything for him. It's always about you. Well I think it's time you get of your high horse and come home to help him. He needs to be there for my wedding or else I'm not going to have anyone to walk down the aisle with. Mum thinks you should come home early, but I hope you don't. That means having to put up with you floating things across the room and making things appear out of thin air like you did during Easter._

_-Petunia_

This letter makes you cry even harder. Petunia doesn't even sound sad that your dad is in the hospital and has a good chance of dying in the next six months. You crumple up the letter and throw it aside. You don't know how long you're crying there for or what time it is. All you know is that you're crying because of your dad and your sister.

Eventually, your sobs turn into sniffles and soon you manage to silence the sniffles. All that's left is the tears running down your face. You hug your knees to your chest, resting your head on top them as you gaze at the stars. Your head hurts and you want to do nothing more than fall asleep right there.

As you wipe away the lone tear that runs down your face, you hear the door to the Tower creak open. You hold your breath and pray to God, Merlin and every other person you can think of that it's not Filch or a teacher.

"Evans?"

Of course.

You wish it were Filch that found you instead.

You don't even have to turn around to know that it's James Potter standing there in the doorway; the sole person who you're avoiding. You rather take detention for being out of bounds than talk to him right now. Especially in the state that you're in, what with the tear tracks and messy hair. Most likely he's going to talk to you about what happened at the party. You really don't want to deal with any more emotions and feelings and all that shit at the moment. You hate feelings. They make your head hurt.

"What's w-" he begins, but, to his surprise (and yours), you turn around and all but jump him. You catch his mouth with yours in a hot, passionate kiss, completely different from the innocent peck from two weeks ago. He stumbles backwards, frozen in shock at your abrupt actions. You know that you're not supposed to be doing this, but you're hurt and angry and for once in your life you're just thinking, 'Fuck the consequences.' You don't want to think or fell anything right now.

James is unresponsive below your lips, and then you think (the not thinking part of your plan lasted a total of five seconds) that maybe this wasn't exactly your best idea ever. You start to pull away, an apology on the tip of your tongue, when suddenly his senses kick in. His arms wrap themselves tightly around your waist and pull you flush against him as he begins to return the kiss.

His lips move furiously against yours as his hand skims over your right side and heads in to your hair. He gently nips at your bottom lip before he lightly runs his tongue over it, asking for entrance. You gladly let him in and soon both of your tongues are battling for dominance. On their own accord, your hands move from gripping the front of his shirt to the nape of his neck where you teasingly play with the ends. You tug on it gently, causing a soft moan to escape him as he pushed you against the wall. The last kiss you both shared was nothing like this one. It was a total fluke compared to this.

He removes his lips from yours as he presses hot little open mouthed kisses along your jaw, heading down towards your neck. You unconsciously make an irritated sound, causing the bastard to chuckle against your skin, sending a pleasant tingly feeling all the way down to your toes. You try to get him to come back to your mouth, but it's to no avail. Only when he grazes a patch of sensitive skin with his teeth do you give up. You gasp softly. He moves down to suck on your pulse point and you moan quietly. Instinctively, you tilt your head backwards, making it easier for him to do as he please to your neck. You can feel his self satisfied smirk at the juncture between your neck and shoulder as he continues to lavish that one spot.

Using whatever little will power you manage to scrap together, you tug his head back up to yours and catch his protesting whine with your mouth. It was your turn to do a bit of wandering now. Slowly, you kiss along his jaw and head up to his earlobe, which you lightly graze with your teeth. This elicits a moan from him. Happy with the response that you're getting, you gently tug on it and he hisses. Smirking now, you kiss down his neck while raking your hands through his hair. However, after a few seconds he grabs them and pins them to the wall.

"Stop that," he whispers breathlessly. You ignore him and kiss back to his mouth, and kiss him lightly. He tries to deepen it, but you want to have some fun and pull away slightly every time he does, teasing him. He releases your hands and holds your face in place so he could snog you properly.

Hands free now, the wrap against his neck once more and you pull yourself even closer to him. Gradually, you hands slide down from his neck to his shoulders and eventually to his chest. You play around with his shirt for a while as he kisses you, blissfully happy that you can't feel or hear anything other than him. It's the perfect distraction, just what you needed. After a while, you get fed up of playing with the shirt and start to undo the first button.

Several things happened at once. James pushed you away and your eyes flutter open. He removes your hands from where they are tightly gripping his shirt. He takes a step backwards.

"Stop," he says softly, looking over you left shoulder. He can't seem to meet your eyes. "Stop."

You eyes start to burn and everything that you did in last fifteen minutes comes crashing down on you. You blush embarrassedly and look down at the ground, trying not to cry for the second time that night.

"I'm sorry," You say almost imperceptibly. You step to the side.

"I'm sorry," You say a bit louder. "I- I have to go."

You turn around and all but run towards the door, humiliated and ashamed at yourself for acting irrationally. You mentally curse yourself for being such a fool. Who cares if you were hurt and angry? You shouldn't have used James Potter (and his exceptional snogging skills) as a distraction. You are nearly out the door when something catches your upper arm, causing you to spin around.

You look up and see that it is James.

"Not so fast Evans," he says angrily. You flinch at his harsh tone. "What the hell is going on here? Two weeks ago you kissed me after the Quidditch Finals and then pretend to forget about it the next day. Oh, come off it," he snaps as you open your mouth to lie and say that you really did forget. "Don't lie. If you actually forgot then you wouldn't have avoided me for the past two weeks. Do you know how insane it was driving me? Okay, yeah, we both had drunk alcohol, but you weren't drunk." Right now you wish that the floor could swallow you up or maybe the wind would blow you off the Astronomy Tower. His talk is making you feel three inches tall.

"And then today," he laughs bitterly and you look at him for a fraction of a second, just long enough to see that his eyes are cold and cruel. "Today I come up here hoping to talk to you about what happened and I find you crying on the floor. When I try to ask what's wrong, you jump me and started snogging me for Merlin knows how long! You probably would have gone further that just snogging if I hadn't stopped you! And when I did stop you, you tried to run away again! Well guess what Evans? I'm tired of trying to figure you out! I'm fucking sick and tired of it! You kiss me then ignore me or run away? What twisted game are you playing?"

At the end of his little rant you're choking back tears. The worst part isn't that he shouted at you or is fed up of you. No, the worst part is that everything he said, every single thing that he said is true.

A tear runs down your face and you quickly wipe it away, praying that he doesn't notice.

He does.

"What- Why are crying?" he asks, taken aback. The coldness in his eyes disappears a bit.

"B- Because it's true," you sob, more tears flowing. You lean back against the wall, sinking down to your knees. "Every damn thing you just said is true. And I'm sorry. I don't want to bring you in to my mess. I'm s-sorry."

You continue crying, even when he sits down next to you and awkwardly pats your shoulder.

"Oh God- please don't cry Evans. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm s-"

"No!" you yell, looking at him for the first time since your little tryst. "No, you have nothing to apologize for! It's all my fault."

He looks at you confusedly, but stays quiet none the less as you go off on your crying jag. You don't know how long you both sit there, you crying and him patting you, totally uncomfortable with the entire situation. After a little while you quiet down and you don't even dare to glance in his direction. There's a tense silence in the tower now, and you're not brave enough to break it. However, once a few minutes have past, he clears his throat.

"Evans, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly were you crying for? The first time around" he says. You can feel his unwavering stare on you, but you refuse to look up.

"It's… my… well," you stammer, trying to explain it to him. You bloody well can't say _'Oh, well my mum sent me a letter telling me that my dad's cancer has gotten worse and he's in the hospital now with less than six months to live and my sister, who hates me because I'm a witch, thinks that I should use my magic to help heal him since it's the least I could do for abandoning them for most of the year. Thanks for the snog, it was wonderful. Cheerio!'_

"I got a letter," you blurt out, wringing your hands in your lap. "Two letters actually. One from my mum and the other from my sister."

You grab the crumpled balls of paper and throw it at him. You gaze at him from under your eyelashes as he scans through it, watching his expression. When he's finished with the first one, the one from your mum, he looks up at you sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry," he says quietly, an undecipherable look in his eyes.

"S'okay," you mutter as you shrug apathetically.

He observes you for another moment before picking up the other letter and reading it. You watch as his facial expression becomes darker and darker until it's downright murderous. After he's finished with it, he stares you, then stares the letter and then his stare snaps back to you again. Taking a deep breath, he looks at you and says sarcastically,

"Well she seems like a lovely person."

You give him a small laugh. "That's Petunia for you."

"I never knew you had a sister," he says, frowning at nothing in particular.

"Well, I guess you can clearly see," you nod at the paper still clenched in his hands, "Why I don't like to broadcast all that about the school."

He snorts. "I can't believe the two of you are related. She seems so… different compared to you."

"Oh believe me, we're completely different," you say quickly. "Tuney's tall and blonde and I'm short and ginger. She has blue eyes and I have green eyes. She's skinny and I'm- well I am skinny but not _that_ skinny. And the biggest difference of all, I'm magical and she's not."

He gives you an odd look. "How the hell are two related?"

"I don't know. My theory is that she fell from a tree outside while I was born the normal way."

James bursts out laughing.

Once he recovered from his laughing fit, he turned to you and says, "Well are we done dancing around this now? I still have another question for you."

You know what the next question is and you really don't want to discuss it. You glance at the watch on wrist.

"Oh! Will you look at the time! I have to go and study! You know, exams are next week and all. Sorry to cut this conversation short. Pip, pip, cheerio, ta-ta!" you wave as you got up and head to the door. Unfortunately, he pulls you back down again, giving you a look.

"You're not going anywhere Ginger," he says, keeping a firm grip on your wrist. "Why'd you do," he makes a vague gesture with his free hand, "That."

"That?" you ask, raising you eyebrows.

"That," he nods.

"I have no clue what you're talking about. And I really need to go over my Potions notes. It being the first exam and all," you say, struggling in vain to escape.

"Evans…" he says warningly, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Oh fine!" you huff, crossing your hands across your chest. Well, trying to cross your hands across you chest. James refuses to let go of your wrist in case you try to escape again, which, let's face it, you probably will do.

You chew your lip, trying to figure out where to start. After a few moments of careful deliberation, you begin.

"Well, you read the letters so I suppose you know about the crying thing. It's just that, when I left them after Easter Break, dad told me that I wasn't to worry about him, that he was fine and nothing was going to happen to him. Apparently he lied, or the cancer got worse in a matter of a few weeks, because he's in the hospital. He- he lied to me. And then there's Petunia who looks as though she doesn't give a rat's arse about whether or not our dad survives. She even has the guts to write and tell me that I should make myself useful and repay him for spending all that time with me by using magic to fix him, but I can't. You can't use magic to cure cancer. And Tuney, she's going on and on about how it's all my fault and I'm hurt and angry that my sister, my big sister could do something that cruel to me. It's like she doesn't- doesn't even care," you choke out. You can't even bear to look at James for the next part. "And- well, I'm not good with all these different emotions and feelings and I just needed a… a distraction." He _was_ a rather good distraction. "And you happened to be here. I'm sorry."

It's silent again. You don't look at James. You're humiliated and ashamed at your behaviour. You are positively sure that he hates you now. Of course he'll hate you. You used him for your own selfish purposes. Any person in their right mind will hate you for that.

"Evans, look at me," he says, placing a finger under your chin and turning your head towards him. You look at him and you're shocked to see that there's not a trace of anger or loathing anywhere on his face. Instead, there's sympathy and understanding.

"I get why you did it," he mumbles, staring at you. "I don't particularly like it, but I can identify with your reasons. Whenever my emotions get to the boiling point I need a distraction too, but mine's usually Quidditch or getting drunk, depending on the severity of it."

"Believe me, I don't usually go around and snog the nearest bloke I see when I'm in a mood like this," you mutter, causing him to laugh. "I typically do schoolwork or something, but this time you were just there and… it's a stupid excuse."

"It's alright Evans," he sighs.

"So you're not angry?"

"Why in Merlin's name would I be angry?" he asks incredulously, "I just spent the better part of twenty minutes snogging a totally fit bird."

You smack his arm, causing him to laugh again.

"Answer me properly you git. Are you angry or not?"

"No, I'm not angry."

You smile properly for the first time since the damned letters came.

"I just have one question though," you say lightly. "How'd you find me? I didn't tell anyone where I was going."

"Well, you didn't come down for dinner and you weren't in the kitchens."

"How'd you know I wasn't in my dorm?"

"Because after dinner I went to the kitchens for a piece of treacle tart and it was completely Lily Evans free. And then when I was in the common room, Macdonald and McKinnon came down from the girls' dorm and Macdonald was saying something along the lines of 'hexing that little ginger wench for skipping out on us again'," he says. "I could only assume that you're the little ginger wench that they're talking about. I don't know any more sixth year Gryffindor redheads."

You curse under your breath. "I forgot that I promised Mary I'd be there for dinner. Merlin, she is going to hex me."

"Well you had a valid reason," he says, giving you back your letters. You slip them in to your skirt pocket.

"Mmm. But you still didn't answer my question. How'd you know I was here in the Astronomy Tower? Just because I wasn't in the dorm, kitchens or Great Hall, it doesn't automatically mean that I had to come here. I could have been in an empty class room, or a girls' loo or hell, I could have been begging Dumbledore to let me go home to see my dad!"

He just winks at you, standing up. "'Fraid that that's a Marauder secret, love. Can't tell you."

"Of course," you grumble.

"I really am sorry Potter," you say one more time as you stand up, straightening out your uniform. "I don't know how to repay you."

He simply waves it off as if it's nothing. "Don't worry about it Evans. You were understandably distraught. What type of bloke would I be if I held this over your pretty little head?"

"The James Potter type," you say dryly, watching him warily.

He grins at you. "Well, since you absolutely begging for me to do something-"

"Not really."

"- maybe you could at least try to be civil with me. No more ignoring or fighting all the time or looking at me as if you want me dead."

"Are you asking for friendship Potter?" you say sceptically, before adding on, "And I don't look at you as if I want you dead."

"I guess; I'm just asking to be civil for now," he says, holding his hands up. "And yes, you do."

"That's it then? No fighting or snide comments or anything like that? Just civility?" you say, still watching him suspiciously. "And no I don't."

"Yep, that's it," James says easily, slapping his hands together. "And you do sometimes."

"No ulterior motives?" you ask. "I don't."

"None at all," he smiled. "Yes you do."

"Alright then Potter. I'll be nice to you. After all, this evening you proved that you're not a total prick," you say, brushing the hair out of your face. "No I don't."

"I'm a nice guy. And you do Ginger."

"I do not!"

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do n- we're arguing like five year olds, Potter."

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I guess it's what we do best. So, friends Ginger?" He sticks out a hand.

"Friends." You shake it. He's about to leave, when you call out, "James!"

He turns around, an eyebrow raised. You blush and stammer out, "Could you not… please don't tell anyone about…that we…"

"Don't worry Evans; your secret's safe with me. The only people who'll know about it is you me and that telescope over there."

You laugh at him as he leaves you alone in the tower. After cleaning up yourself and tying your hair back again, you start to make your way back to Gryffindor Tower. It's well past curfew, but the only thought in your head at the moment is that you are now friends with James Potter.

What the hell possessed you to do that?

* * *

**_Did you guys like it? The rating might change soon, from T to M a bit later on. I'm not to sure as yet, but most likely it will. Just a heads up for you all. _**

**_Reviews make me happy._**

**_~twilightstargazer  
:)_**


	4. Chronic Affinity

**_Here's chapter three guys. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. AboveMeOnlySky, ReaderGirl98, SparklesJamesLilyHSM13, gilyanna, CrescentMoon12 and my lovely guest reviewers. Also, thanks to all those who've favourited and alerted. You guys are awesome. :)_**

**_Enjoy_**

* * *

**Chapter 3- Chronic Affinity**

The day after your little rendezvous in the Astronomy Tower, you carry on with your business as if nothing had changed. You get up at seven as usual, get ready before all of your dorm mates as usual, wake up Mary and Marlene as usual and go down to the Great Hall alone for breakfast, as usual. There isn't anything off with your routine. It's the same as it has always been for nearly the past six years.

However, as you take your customary seat at Gryffindor table, serving yourself your usual eggs and toast, something out of your daily routine takes place.

Walking in to the hall with his usual swagger and self assured smirk in place is James Potter. You notice that the other three Marauders are nowhere in sight. You're confused at that, because as far as you know, Black and Potter are inseparable.

You're even more confused when he slides into the seat next to you and starts loading his plate with every breakfast item in your vicinity.

"Morning Ginger," he says, pausing just long enough to give you a crooked grin. You're too baffled to return the simple gesture and seem perfectly content to gape at him like a moron. It appears as though you're not the only confounded by his new seating arrangement, as everyone present in the Great Hall is openly staring at you both. This makes you self conscious and you blush.

"Er- not to be rude or anything, but why exactly are you here?" you ask.

He looks at you as though you've grown another head. "What does it look like I'm doing Ginge? I'm eating breakfast."

You roll your eyes. Git.

"Well yes, I've discerned that," you say, throwing a glare his way. He doesn't notice it of course, as he's to busy stuffing himself with food to bother with you. How he remains that skinny while eating that much is beyond you. "I mean, why are you sitting _here_? With me?"

He stops eating and turns to face you. You can detect traces of the infernal smirk playing around his lips. Not that you're staring at his lips of course.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Evans, but I think after you molested me last night we agreed to be civil. Isn't that right?" he says, now flat out smirking.

You blush again. "I didn't molest you," is the only thing you can manage to mumble. "And it's not funny. I was distraught and emotionally unstable."

"Emotionally unstable my arse. You're mentally unstable, Evans," he laughs, ruffling your hair.

"Hey!" you yell indignantly, socking him in the arm. This just causes him to laugh even harder and throw his previously abused arm around you, giving you a slight squeeze.

"Back to your original question, last night, we agreed to be mates. Yes or no?"

"Well yes, but-"

"Excellent," he says, retracting his arm and continuing to eat his breakfast. "Now eat your breakfast. You look like a twig."

"I do not look like a-"

"Eat, Ginger," he says sternly. Grumbling to yourself, you go back to breakfast and try to ignore the numerous pairs of eyes that are now focused on you and James. Both of you eat in silence. You find it a tad bit uncomfortable, but James doesn't seem to mind it as he is as cool and calm as ever. The rest of the Marauders join you after sometime, not even questioning the new seating arrangements.

This continues until the end of the term, each morning you all talking about something or the other; usually about the war, your brutal end of year exams and what you'll be doing now that you all were legally allowed to apparate. Numerous rumours sprouted up from the student body due to your recently acquired friends. Stories ranged from you finally succumbing to James's charm and going out with him secretly, to you blackmailing the Marauders in to sitting with you. Apparently the Marauders come as a full set. Buy one get three free. Although, you can't deny that you've found some of their antics rather funny and they aren't the worst people to hang out with either. James stuck with his promise of not telling a single soul of what happened up there in the tower, something that you're happy for. Although, (not that you'll ever admit it though) you still think about the kiss.

Sitting there at the Gryffindor table, you silently vow to yourself that you'll never snog him again. It's more or less against the Witches Code of Conduct to go around jumping innocent blokes (or as innocent as blokes like _James Potter_ could ever be) and snogging the living daylights out of them. No matter how attractive they may or may not be.

* * *

It's finally time to return home for summer. You can't help but wear a cheery smile on your face as you try to load your trunk onto the Hogwarts Express. It's summer. No school for a whole two months. The only dark spot in all of this is Petunia's wedding. When you went back home during Christmas break, you were surprised to find out that your sister's boyfriend, a big bloke of the name Vernon Dursley, had proposed to her. During the engagement party however, Petunia had pulled you to the side and told you that you won't be part of the ceremony. It had hurt you and when you asked her why, she simply told you that it was because she didn't want her special day tainted with anything unnatural. She left you in the hall and returned to her party while you were left in the hallway shocked and hurt. You remember apparating (illegally at the time) back to your house and spending the next few hours crying.

You're jolted out of your reverie as someone grabs your trunk out of your hands.

Whipping around, you see that it was just Sirius Black.

"You know Red, there's this little thing called magic that can save you from killing yourself, and innocent bystanders such as myself, by trying to lift this thing," he says amusedly as he flicked his wand. Your trunk immediately floats up in to the air and heads straight on to the topmost shelf of the nearest empty compartment. Out of all the Marauders, you're probably the closest to Sirius, with James coming into a close second. Both of you know what it's like to have family members who shun you for what you are, you for just being a witch, and him for being a so called 'Blood Traitor.' Unlike Mary and Marlene who haven't the foggiest about what it's like to have a sibling hate them, Sirius can actually empathize with you.

"Oh, sorry, I was a bit lost in thought," you reply, flushing slightly.

"Your sister's wedding?" he asks in a low voice, hitting the nail directly on the head.

You nod once, and he offers you a sympathetic smile.

"See, this is one of the pros of being disowned; I don't have to attend any family functions like that," he replies, grinning at you. "And besides, if what's her name gets on your nerves, you can always conjure up a flock of doves out of thin air for the happy couple." He winks.

You laugh, lightly shoving him to the side. "Oh yeah, Petunia will be real happy about that," you say sarcastically.

"Exactly; and the best part is, you don't have to buy her a present! It's a win-win situation," he jokes. "I've got to run Red. I'll see you on the train. Try not to cause any more harm to innocent bystanders."

"Alright then; see you later Black. Try not to blow anything up."

"But where's the fun in that?" He pouts as he walks away.

You're still chuckling to yourself as you board the train and begin to search for Mary and Marlene.

For the first hour of the train ride, you and the girls talk about summer plans, Mary's new boyfriend and catch up on the newest gossip. Apparently, according to Marlene, a fifth year Ravenclaw could have sworn that she caught you and Potter snogging on the third floor behind a tapestry. You simply brush it off, having put up with similar things for the last few weeks and go back to your book, but Marlene isn't finished. She goes on to say that the fifth year Ravenclaw's friend furiously denied it and said that it was obvious that it was you and Black in the sordid relationship, not Potter. She even insists on hearing you two declare your love for each other after a heated snog in the Quidditch stands. Marlene goes even further to say that now a Hufflepuff has joined the conversation and says that both of their theories are bollocks and you're obviously seeing both of them at the same time.

At this point you're blushing, and it gets even darker as the door to the compartment open to admit four boys, two of which you all were just discussing. James sits on one side of you while Sirius sits on the other. Remus and Peter share the other seat with Mary and Marlene. Turning to you, Mary wiggles her eyebrows and deviously asks,

"So Lil, which Ravenclaw rumour is true? Or was the Hufflepuff correct?"

The boys, having not heard the first part of the conversation, turn to look at you perplexedly.

You squirm in you seat, positive that your hair and face are the same colour.

"None of them are true Mary. You know that."

"Alright, I'm completely lost. What are you birds talking about?" Sirius asks, looking at each of you all in turn.

"Shall you answer, Lily or should I do the honours?" Marlene asks you, a giant smirk pasted on her face.

Focusing intently on your hands, which are clasped tightly in your lap, you say, "A fifth year Ravenclaw said that I was apparently snogging you in the Quidditch stands, Sirius."

There was a beat of silence, before all four boys burst our laughing.

"Wha- I'm pretty sure I've never snogged you Red," he says, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

"Mmm, but that's not even half of it," you say, turning slightly towards James. You look him directly in the eye, your lips twitching at the absolute irony of the situation. "Rumour has it that I've also been snogging you in an unused classroom, Potter."

Their laughter got even louder, if that was possible.

"You're joking right?" He says, his eyes glowing with mirth. "What part of our behaviour has led to that?"

You shrug, not even bothering to hide the sardonic smile anymore. "It seems that once you sit with a person for breakfast that means you have to be snogging them behind closed doors." The quirk of fate in this situation is absolutely comical.

"Oh Lils, you haven't told them the best part," Marlene coos.

"The best part?" Remus says amusedly, "Pray tell, what could be even more hilarious than someone's misconception about Lily being with both Prongs and Padfoot?"

"You mean you haven't heard?" you say, faking surprise. "I'm with both Potter _and_ Black. Right after I was finished with Black I had to hurry to clean myself up and be on time for my rendezvous with Potter. But don't let them know that, though." You send him a saucy wink.

The two boys stare at each other as the other members of the compartment continue to roar with laughter.

"Prongs! How could you do that to me? You stole my girlfriend!" Sirius says dramatically, clutching his heart.

"Your girlfriend? Maybe she was mine first!" replies James as he swats Sirius's arm away from around you and replaces it with his own. You can feel the blush coming back to your cheeks as the boys continue to insult the other's manhood in jest.

"So the Hufflepuff thinks that you're with both of them when in reality you're with neither," Peter chortles. You nod, nothing besides giggles being able to come out from your mouth at the moment. At that point, the boys moved from insults to faux fighting and you're unfortunately caught in the literal middle of it. You try to say something, but it's sort of hard to speak when you have two seventeen year old boys wrestling across your lap.

"Er, mates, I think you're killing your supposed 'girlfriend'," Remus points out after James is partially lying in your lap while Sirius has him in a headlock. Remus was right of course, most of James's weight is being placed on you, and he isn't exactly the lightest.

Grudgingly, they stop their 'fight' long enough for you to move over to the other side of the compartment.

"Sorry Ginger," James says, although the apology is rather belied by the gigantic smirk on his face. You reply by sticking your tongue out. Once the laughter in the compartment had decreased, you all entertain yourselves by playing Exploding Snap, which you're unfortunately absolutely terrible at.

Eventually, after you've lost six matches in a row, Marlene takes pity on you, and helps you throughout the rest. You still don't win any, but you do manage to come third in one and beat Potter in two games, something that makes you exceedingly happy. After the Snap Wars, as they were deemed by Sirius, are over, the occupants of the compartment go about their own business for about a half an hour before Peter complains that he's bored and whips out a packet of Muggle playing cards, declaring that they should play strip poker. Remus and you furiously object this particular idea, but you're overruled as the other five students want to play. After some serious persuasion (and you could swear that Potter handed Remus a large bar of Honeydukes' best which he quickly slipped inside his pocket) Remus grudgingly agrees to their game. At this point it's six against one and you know that whatever protest you put up will be in vain. Grumbling darkly to yourself, you join the circle on the floor.

The cards look as though they've seen better days, which leads you to think about just how many times the Marauders have done this. The little traitorous part of your mind wonders how many times they've done this with _other girls_ besides yourself, Mary and Marlene. You promptly shut up that little part and make a mental note to dispose of it as soon as possible.

Peter expertly shuffles the cards and deals out six hands, as Mary and Marlene are playing together.

You're semi comforted by the fact that you've often played poker during the summer hols with your uncles, leading you to be very good at the game. At least this time you want have to suffer the embarrassment of losing and having to strip.

The first few games pass quickly, with Potter or you coming in first and Mary, Marlene or Remus in last. You all continue playing and talking about random topics for most of the train ride. You're proud to say that you haven't lost a game as yet; something that can't be said for the other players. When you all pause for a snack break sometime after the seventeenth game (you've stopped keeping track by now) Sirius was divested of one shoe, Remus was missing both shoes, socks and wristwatch, Peter lost his trainer, Potter was also parted from his wristwatch and Mary and Marlene were stripped of most of their jewellery. When the two girls lost their first game, Marlene smiled and easily removed her bracelet. The boys were immediately yelling that it was against the rules and that they had to remove clothing. You laughed at their gobsmacked expressions when Mary turned around and told them that the rules of the game said that you had to be stripped of everything that you're wearing, and that she and Marlene were wearing various accessories.

It isn't until much later on that you loose a game.

"Finally!" Sirius yells as he and Potter high five over your defeat. "About time you've lost a game Red."

"You are abnormally good at this, Ginger," Potter says, grinning at you. You bite back the numerous retorts that springs to your tongue and focus on unclasping you bracelet. You throw it at him, but, due to his quick Quidditch reflexes, he catches it and prevents it from hitting him in the face like you hoped it would. He winks at you and places it in his pocket.

The game continues for a few more rounds, with Mary and Marlene running out of objects to throw in to the circle and Mary being forced to remove her shirt to reveal a white camisole beneath. Sirius catcalls at her, and he promptly receives a kick to the shins.

Only when you all realize that the train was slowing down, all of you start to scramble for their belongings and tried to get their luggage in order. You find yourself pushed against the wall as Peter tries to close his trunk after replacing the cards in there. You now realize what they meant when they say only four per compartment. With seven teenagers- four of whom are boys- standing in there getting their things in order, there was barely any room to move.

Shifting slightly so that your arm isn't pinned against the wall anymore, you try to fix your hair and make it a bit more presentable for when you enter the platform. When the train finally comes to a halt, you grab your trunk (which either Potter or Black took down for you; you didn't exactly see them) and battle your way through the swarm of students in the hallway. During the fray, you loose Mary, Marlene and the Marauders, but you're not too worried about it as you're positive that you'll find the again on the platform.

Once you finally exit, you immediately scan the throngs of families for a familiar strawberry blonde head. After some time, you locate her standing next to the line of fireplaces and head straight there.

Rose Evans is a tad bit shorter than you with long strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She greets you with a brilliant grin and a bone crushing hug as soon as you stop by her.

"Lily," she smiles, enveloping you in an enthusiastic hug. You return it with just as much fever. Your mother is a little bit skinnier than when you last saw her at Easter, and there are a bit more streaks of grey added to her hair. You denote this to the fact that her husband has been just been released from the hospital and has until the end of the year, according to the doctors.

"Hi mum," you say, your voice wobbling slightly. Just seeing her makes you think of your dad. "How are you?"

"Oh I'm fine now that my baby flower is home," she says, brushing the hair out of your face. You smile at her again, before turning around to scan the crowd for any signs of Mary or Marlene. You find them quick enough and you drag mum over to where they were both standing.

"Bye Mary," you say, hugging her tightly. You do the same to Marlene. "Don't forget to write."

"Of course we won't Lils," says Marlene. "Tell Petty we said hi."

You chuckle. "Will do Marls, will do."

"Bye Lily," Remus calls over from the fireplaces. Standing next to him is a pretty blonde witch who you know to bye his mother.

"Bye Remus; don't get in to too much trouble," you reply smiling at him. With one last wave you watch as the green flames swallow him.

"Red!" a voice yells seconds before something solid slams into you. You're nearly thrown over at the force of it, but two arms around your waist ensures that you aren't.

"Have a good summer Red," Sirius says hugging you tightly. You blush as your mum looks over at you, pausing her conversation with the Macdonalds and McKinnons, and raises and enquiring eyebrow.

"You too Sirius," You say as you wrap your arms around him as well, to return the hug. You try to ignore Mary and Marlene's snickering from behind you. "Er- if you don't mind me asking, how're you getting home?"

"Oh, I live with the Potters now," he says, nodding over his shoulder. You look in that direction and see James conversing happily with an elderly couple whom you guess to be Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

"Oh," is all you say. "Mrs. Potter sure do have her hands full with the two of you running around creating your usual havoc."

He laughs and affectionately ruffles your hair. "Please Evans; Prongs and I are little innocent angels."

"Innocent angels my arse," you snort. "Who were the ones that decorated the entire Great Hall in red and gold last night in celebration of Gryffindor winning the house cup? There was even an actual lion!"

"It wasn't a real lion," he explains to you, grinning like a maniac. "We just transfigured one of Filch's cats. Wormtail was up for transfiguring the whole lot of them, but it we figured that it would have been a bit too much."

"The fact that there was an actual lion there is a bit too much."

He simply just grins at you in response. "Come off it Red; we're the Marauders. We have to add a certain flair to our pranks."

"Call it what you will, but you still nearly gave a first year a heart attack."

"First years are babies," he replies airily, waving the matter off with his hand. "They need to grow up and accept the fact that it's Hogwarts; the strange and unusual is always around every corner."

"Especially with the lot of you running around," you snort.

His grin gets wider. "Exactly."

At that moment, your mum walks over to the two of you.

"Let's go Lils. I left your dad alone at home. Petunia went out with Vernon to talk to the caterers," she says, before looking at Sirius. "Who's your friend?"

"Sirius Black," he replies, shaking her hand while flashing a charming grin. You try to refrain from rolling your eyes at his antics. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mrs. Evans. Lily has told me so much about you."

"Why thank you Mr. Black," you mum says. You swear that you can detect a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Well this has been fun," you inject, pulling you mother away from Sirius before he could do any more damage. "Didn't you say daddy was home alone? We better get back. Bye Sirius! I'll see you… whenever!" You wave over your shoulder before grabbing your trunk.

Just before you walk through one of the exits, a voice calls out to you.

"Hey Ginger!"

You quickly whip around and see James Potter running towards you, with his boyish grin in place.

"You forgot something," he says, before handing you a gold bracelet.

"Oh, thanks Potter," you say, blushing lightly as you take it. You fumble with it for a few seconds, trying to hook it before he sighs and steps in. Taking you hand, he easily clasps the ends together around your wrist. He drops your hand and flashes you a rogue grin. You suddenly aware that you mother is standing right next to you, witnessing and analyzing each movement. Your blush got deeper.

"Er- mum, this is my friend James Potter. James, this is my mum," you say lamely to them.

"Hello Mrs. Evans," he says. Your mum is silent for a moment before she smiles at him and says,

"Hello there James, please call me Rose."

"Alright then, hello there Rose." He grins.

Your mother laughs lightly and places a hand on his shoulder.

You're more or less stunned in to oblivion as the two of them continue to laugh and chat like old mates and don't catch a word of the conversation. James and your mum being mates? You nearly shudder at the thought of it. James was _your_ mate. You're jolted out of your stupor a couple minutes later when someone calls your name.

"Lily? See what I was saying James? She zones out like this all the time. I hope she doesn't do it in school. In fact, it's a miracle that she passes those classes."

"Mum!" you whine, but of course the two of them are too busy smiling like loons at each other to take you on.

"Oh, of course not Mrs. Eva- I mean Rose. In fact, she's probably one of the smartest students there."

"Oh well that's always nice to-"

"Mum, don't we have to go home?" you say, cutting off the rest of your mother's sentence.

"Yes! Oh, look at the time! Time flies when you're having fun doesn't it?"

"Yes mum."

"I was talking to James, dear."

You cross your arms, not believing that your mother, your very own mother, the same woman who spawned you, was blowing you off for James Potter. James sodding Potter. What has the world come to?

"Right then," you say loudly, simultaneously latching on to your mother's arm and waving your wand so that your trunk wouldn't be heavy. You tug you mother slightly away from James. "Bye James."

"Bye Ginger," he says, passing his hand through his hair. "I'll write you?"

"Yeah, sure," you say absent-mindedly as you all but drag your mum towards the exit. "Bye."

* * *

You reach home quick enough, still caught up in your own thoughts the whole ride there. You're half amused and half irritated at the effect James has on your mother. It's incredibly strange to see a grown woman, who you've always admired for being so put together, sent into a tizzy because of an adolescent boy like him. You shake your head and smile fondly as you recall his antics.

Your mother on the hand is still completely thrilled, jabbering all the way home about James this and James that, with you just making little uninterested sounds in the back round. One would think that she would ask about how you, her own daughter, have been for the past three months instead of talking about a boy she's just met. She says that she can't believe that the James that you've talked ill about for the past five and a half years and the charming lovely boy she just met in person from the platform was the same person.

Petunia isn't home, something that you're thankful for. You're still incensed over her previous letter and might end up doing something that you'll regret later if she was here.

You simply flick your wand and send you bags up to your room. Stowing your wand back in to your pocket, you slowly trudge up the stairs and walk slowly to your parents bedroom. You quietly open the door and slip inside.

The curtains are drawn, blocking out most of the sunlight. On the bedside table there're many different bottles and packets of medicine. There's a half full glass of water next to them along with the day's newspapers. Lying there on the bed is your dad, who was giving you a huge, albeit tired, smile.

"Hey Lils," he says, sitting up a bit.

"Hi daddy," you reply, rushing over to his side to give him a hug. He's a bit smaller than the last time you saw him, and his hair seems to have thinned out and greyed some more. You can see that he's incredibly tired although he's trying to hide it. For some inexplicable reason, you can feel a tell tale prickling coming from behind your eyes.

"How was school?" he asks, as he moves around to let you sit on the bed. He wraps a loose arm around you. You lean into the embrace, placing you head in the crook of his neck.

"It was fine. You know, the usual, people turning into frogs and flying off on broomsticks," you say, smiling as he laughs at you terrible attempt at a joke.

"I bet it was. Did you do well in your exams?"

You nod. The two of you continue to discuss different topics of your school life and social life until your mum comes up. She brings in a tray of tea and some scones and sets it on the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks mum," you say, immediately grabbing a scone and munching on it. You had forgotten how hungry you were. The Cauldron cakes you stole from Peter on the train seemed ages ago. The three of you drank your tea and ate the scones in comfortable silence for a while until your mum decides to break it.

"Oh! I nearly forgot to tell you about this absolutely charming boy I met on the Platform today, Robert!" mum says delightfully as she turned to your father. You hope that she was talking about Sirius and not... the other one.

"Boy? With Lily?" he asks, directing his gaze to you. You blush and study the headline on the paper.

"Of course he'd be with Lily! I don't know anyone there besides Lily's friends and Severus, because Lily won't introduce me," she replies poignantly. You ignore the little twinge in your chest when she mentions Severus's name.

"Really? Lily dear, why didn't _you_ mention this?" dad says slightly sternly as he stares at you.

"I didn't really think that mum meeting Sirius would be important," you mumble, cheeks flaming.

"I wasn't talking about him, dear."

"Sirius? Who's 'Sirius'?" dad asks, looking between you and mum.

"Sirius is my friend. _Just_ my friend, dad," you emphasize, wishing for nothing else than this conversation to end. You really don't need your dad to get all protective, nor do you need your mother to gush about her newest '_friend'_.

"Okay," was all he says, seeming content with that response as his smile reappeared on his face.

"I was talking about James dear," you mum says as she stirs her tea. The protective look is back on you dad's face. Right now you're cursing Potter in to next week. How is it that one person could wreak so much havoc on someone's life? Even when he wasn't here?

"Mum, Potter is a…," you begin, but pause as you try to find the right words to describe your… _special_ relationship with the boy. How do sum up a relationship in which a boy constantly annoys you and argues with you for five years, more or less disappear entirely from your life for a few months, somehow weasel his way back in to your life and lets you snog him without any repercussions other than friendship, which you surprisingly enjoy, in just a few measly words to your overly protective father and mother who happens to love him already? In the back of your mind you think that someone really should write a book on how to handle situations like these without coming off too foolish.

"Well, let's just say that we have a very complicated friendship," you finish after some time, blowing out a stream of air exasperatedly.

"Potter? I think I've heard that name somewhere before…," your dad muses, slipping his glasses on over his green eyes which are identical to yours. "I just can't seem to recall where."

"Probably from me. I've griped about him for about… oh just the past five years," you say moodily as you cross your arms over your chest.

"Right! Isn't he the one that teased you in school?" dad asks, turning to you.

You're about to respond, but at that moment the door swung open to admit your sister. Petunia's tall and graceful with blonde hair and blue eyes. Right now she was wearing a light pink summer dress and a holding a small clutch in her hands. Her hair is neatly pinned back and her make up is tastefully done. She freezes at the sight of you sitting on the bed.

"Hello Tuney," mum says, ignoring the obvious tension in the room. "How did the things with the caterers go?"

"Fine. I told Vernon that he could come around this afternoon for dinner," she replies tersely. Your mum exchanges looks with dad before announcing that she's going to fetch some more tea.

"Hi Tuney," you say, giving her a small smile and wave.

"Lily," she nods. "I didn't know you were coming back today or else I wouldn't have invited Vernon over for dinner."

You try to refrain from rolling your eyes. Your sister is so obsessed about her image and keeping everything as normal as possible.

"He's getting married to you in a few weeks Petunia. Get used to the fact that Vernon and I'll be family," you all but hiss at her.

She flinches and says, "Please don't remind me. And please don't do any of you…magic," she has to force the word out, "In front of him. I've already told him what you are, and he's okay with it as long as you don't associate yourself with him. I can obviously understand why."

"Petunia!" your dad says, butting into your conversation. "Be nice to you sister. She hasn't said anything to you."

"Sorry," she says, but you can tell by her tone and expression that she doesn't really mean it.

"It's fine," you say coldly. You get up from the bed and smile one last time at your dad, completely ignoring you sister. "I'm going to go unpack and clean myself up. I'll see you later." You give him one last hug before exiting the room. You don't really want to unpack, every summer you just leave your trunk open at the foot of the bed and rummage around in it whenever you need something. You're just using it as an excuse to get away from Petunia, lest the two of you begin to fight again.

You lock yourself in your room and slide down the door. The room's exactly how you left it, pretty lacy white curtains hanging over the windows, a bookshelf pushed up against the wall on one side, next to your desk, and your wardrobe and dresser on the other. Your bed was in the middle of the room, a small table on the side of it with a picture of you, Mary and Marlene that was taken last year. The rest of the walls also holds different pictures from throughout the school year, both muggle and wizarding alike.

Surprisingly, to get your mind off all things Petunia, you're thinking about Potter and what he would have done if he were here. He would probably hit on Petunia as soon as he sees her. Or maybe he would have been downstairs chatting it up with your mum. Merlin knows they seem to have clicked on the platform. Your dad and him would have gotten along well, both of them being obsessed with sports. Him with Quidditch and dad with football. A small giggle escapes you as you picture both of them going on and on about their favourite teams. Your dad has always wanted to go to a quidditch match. Maybe whenever James writes you, you can ask him about taking the two of you to one. Your small giggle turns into full blown laughter at this thought. James would probably joke about how he's been chasing you for a good five years and then you turn around and ask him out. You would reply, scoffing at his false accusations and call him a prat before the two of you start laughing like a pair of loons.

Still smiling to yourself about the crazy path your thoughts had taken you, you shake your head and go down to the kitchen where your mum calls you from.

* * *

**_This chapter was a bit tough to write. Originally, it was nearly double this length, but I don't want one chapter to be twelve pages and then the next one twenty something, so I ended up splitting it in half. Which means that you'll see another update soon enough. The title of the next chapter is called _****_Illicit Dealings_****_. I wonder if any of you can figure out what it means… They're a few hints in this chapter to help you out. If you do manage to do that, I'll give you a sneak peek of it._**

**_Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. _**

**_~twilightstargazer_**

**_:)_**


	5. Illicit Dealings

**_Big thanks to my wonderful reviewers. SparkleJamesLilyHSM13, nacho5, Super Cara, The Honour Lord, CrescentMoon12 and the anons. We've reached 20! Same goes to the all the alerts and favourites. I want to give each of you get a big hug._**

**_This was to be up since Monday, but I had some internet troubles._**

* * *

**Chapter 4- Illicit Dealings**

The next three weeks are more or less hell for you, as you, your mum and dad all have to help prepare for Petunia's wedding, which would take place on the sixth of August. You've just about had enough with invitations, telling the difference between ivory and corn silk and which bouquet would look best with the dress that you haven't even seen as yet. It's driving you mad. And the worst part is, with Petunia's friends running in and out of your house at all hours of the day, you can hardly use magic. One time you were trying to magic away a stain that had appeared on your blouse when one of Petunia's soon to be bridesmaids burst in to your room. You had to quickly throw your wand under your bed so she wouldn't see it.

Usually, when you can't take any more discussions on whether the cake should be chocolate or vanilla, you apparate to Diagon Alley where you spend about an hour or so, browsing the shops, meeting your classmates and so on. So far, you've met up with Marley and Mary five times, hung out with Remus twice and saw a variety of other students during your time there. You even became friends with Patricia Robinson, the pretty Ravenclaw prefect in your year. On particularly bad days, you go over to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, where she happened to be working, and eat half of your body weight in ice cream.

It was usually these visits that helped you to maintain at least some of your sanity.

* * *

Your mother wakes you up the next morning, announcing that you all are going to go pick up Petunia's dress and get something for you to wear in London today. You merely respond with a groan and pull the covers over your head. It's cold, raining buckets outside and she expects you to leave your warm, comfortable bed? Preposterous.

Eventually, you do get out of bed and stumble down the stairs to the kitchen where your mum and sister are waiting. Petunia is already dressed is a simple pair of black trousers, a cream shirt and a pair of flats, looking perfect and put together as usual. You on the other hand, are still sporting the 'just got out of bed look', what with your messy hair and pyjamas.

"Morning," you say through a yawn as you pour out some tea.

"Hurry up," Petunia snaps. "We have to be there before twelve and then when we get home I have to go through the last set of invitations so I could tell the caterers how much…"

You tune her out after a while and eat your breakfast.

Once you were done, you head back upstairs to shower and change. You don't look nearly as put together as Petunia in your jeans and t shirt combination, but you couldn't care less. Running a brush through your wet hair, you stick your wand into your back pocket and hop down the steps.

"Okay," you say, faking cheeriness. It can't be more obvious that you wish that you're going anywhere but there. "I'm ready."

"Good," your mum says, as she picked up the car keys. "You two get in the car; I'll go tell your father that we're leaving."

You do just that, clambering into the backseat and buckling yourself in. It takes just over an hour to get to the dress shop, which happens to be a small little shop just inside of London. In the window there are several different dresses, most of them being wedding gowns.

"Lily, we'll see if we can get you something here too," your mum says as she parks the car.

"Mum, you really don't have to-" you begin, but she cuts you off with the wave of a hand.

"Nonsense! I insist. After all, it's your sister's wedding. We have to get you something nice to wear."

"Brilliant," you mutter under your breath as climb out of the car, running inside the shop to escape the rain. If there's one thing you despise, it is dress shopping. It seems as though the sales clerks take some sort of sadistic pleasure in pointing out various flaws and what type of dress would help you hide it.

The shop is small and a bit cramped, as nearly every available space seems to be covered with dresses in every available style, colour and fabric. Behind the only clear counter is a pretty blonde lady who seems to be in her late forties, to early fifties. She's dressed elegantly, in white slacks, a peach shirt and a string of pearls, along with her measuring tape, around her neck. She looks up from the ledger and smiles at you all when you enter the shop, heading straight for Petunia.

"Petunia darling," she says jovially as she hugs your sister. "Right on time. And I see you've brought your mother and… who's this young lady?"

"Lily Evans." You introduce yourself. "I'm Petunia's little sister."

The woman blinks, clearly taken by surprise. You don't blame her. That was usually the reaction you get when you say Petunia's your sister. One doesn't immediately associate the ginger and blonde together.

"Oh," she says regaining her composure quickly. "You can call me Margret. You're here to pick out a dress yes? I'll help you as soon as I'm done with Petunia."

You nod once. "Take a look around. I think something green or blue would suit you." She turns to your sister and mum. "Come along ladies. The dress is in the back room."

They depart, leaving you to fend for yourself in the mass of dresses. One of the main problems in being a red head is that there are very few colours that don't clash with your hair. You honestly don't want to wear something green, because it seems to cliché to match a dress to your eyes. And blue is out of the question too, since that's the colour Petunia picked for the bridesmaid dresses. If you show up in something like that she'll positively have kittens.

With that in mind, you start going through various racks in search of the right dress. Lots of them catch your fancy at first, but when you inspect them further you find little faults in it them. That one is too long; this one's fabric is a bit itchy and so on. You're still looking when your mum calls you to see Petunia in her dress.

When you enter the back room, you're immediately in awe of how _perfect_ the dress is on her. It's an A line dress that sticks to her torso like a second skin before it falls fluidly over her hips and down her legs. The dress doesn't have a defined waistline, but still manages to enhance every curve of her body. The skirt seems to glitter with every movement she makes as there are numerous amounts of sequined flowers embroidered on it. The top is strapless and kept simple with no other embellishments save for the little row of faux jewels studded on to the top of it.

"Wow," you breathe as Petunia twirls, beaming with joy and pride. Suddenly you're transported back to when the two of you were children, talking about your dream wedding. Petunia would always be the blushing bride while you were the maid of honour for her. Just the memory nearly brings tears to your eyes because now Petunia would rather die than have you as her maid of honour now.

"You look gorgeous Tuney," you say as she spins around. She doesn't reply.

"Did you find anything that you wanted as yet Lily?" your mum asks. You shake your head.

Margret frowns. "Are you sure dear? Why don't I see if I can find something for you?" You simply shrug in response and continue to watch your sister in her new dress.

Margret heads up to the front of the shop, leaving you, your mum and sister in the back.

"Oh Petunia," your mum coos. "You look so grown up in that dress. It seems just yesterday you and Lily were playing dress up in my closet and now look at you! You're getting married." She sniffs.

"Aw… don't cry mum," Petunia says, still smiling.

"My two girls have grown up. Soon enough Lily'll be getting married and then I'll be a grandmother!"

"Lily would need to get a boyfriend before that could happen mum," Petunia says dryly.

"She's right," you quip, laughing nervously.

"But what about J-?"

"Oh look!" you say, nearly crying in relief when Margret re-enters the room. "It seems as though I have some dresses to try on!"

Your mother rolls her eyes at you and follows Petunia back into the dressing room to help her remove the dress.

"Here you are dear," the older woman says, placing about six or seven dresses on to a chair. "I'm going to help them. Come find me when you've chosen one."

"Okay, thanks."

You sort through the pile, taking out the green and blue ones. Eventually, you're left with two dresses; one was a pale pink and the other was gold. Sighing, you take both of them in to the dressing room with you and try it on. The pink one fits you, but you think that it's a bit too revealing to wear to a wedding. You slip it off and try on the next one. This one falls about three inches above your knees and has a very modest off the shoulder neckline with a sash around you waist. The only problem with it is that it's a tad bit too snug.

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath as you shimmy out of it. "Really perfect. I finally found a dress that I actually like and it doesn't even fit me!"

Suddenly, a thought hits you and makes you want to smack yourself in the face for being so stupid. Grinning slightly to yourself, you extract your wand from the pocket of your jeans and murmur a charm to make the dress bigger. You put it back on and use your wand to either take in or let out some other places until the fit is just right.

Stepping out of the changing room, you call, "Mum? I've gotten a dress. Do you want to see it?"

There's a muffled response from the back, which you assume to be a yes, and you head down that direction.

"You look wonderful dear," your mum says. "It's practically made for you!"

"Is that the other one?" you hear the shopkeeper ask from the back. She comes in to the room, carrying Petunia's wedding dress and smiles at you. "It's perfect. And the colour is absolutely marvellous on you."

"Thank you," you say, blushing under their stares.

Just then Petunia enters the room and stops short at the sight of you. She's frozen in place and her eyes widen as she looks you up and down.

You bite your lip. "What do you think Tuney?" you ask shyly.

"You look brilliant," she croaks. "It's gorgeous."

Your mum squeals and ushers you back in to the dressing room to change into your previous outfit. Once you're out of the dress, she takes it from you and announces that she's going to the front to ring them up and to meet her when you're ready.

You step out of the dressing room, only to be immediately grabbed by Petunia.

"Ow!" you yell as her nails dig into your arm. "Let go!"

Petunia ignores all of your protests and all but drags you out of the shop and outside where it's still pouring. She releases your arm and glares at you when she jerks to a stop.

"Don't wear that dress to my wedding," she commands you.

"What?" you reply, clearly taken aback.

"You heard me. Don't wear that dress for my wedding. Wear anything else except for that."

"Why?"

"_Why?_ God Lily, can't you think of anything else besides yourself for just a minute?!" she yells at you. "No! Of course not! It always has to be about you! I come out in my wedding dress and you just have to one up me by finding something that looks so, so _fucking_ perfect on you! Everything I do you have to be better than me, you stupid attention hog! It's _my_ wedding, _my_ special day and I'll be damned if you try to upstage me at it!"

You feel as though she's smacked you in the face, something which she looks close to doing. She's calling you stupid? She's calling you an attention hog? Immediately you infamous temper flares up.

"I'm the one being selfish? Oh well that's rich coming from you! Ever since I've come back home it was all about planning for your wedding to that… that prick!" you snarl.

"Do not call Vernon a prick! He's the only one around here that sees you for what you really are: a freak!"

"I am not a freak! And do you think I want to upstage you at your own wedding? If you do then you don't know me at all! You didn't even tell me that you and Vernon had gotten so serious until went down on one sodding knee at Christmas! I didn't even know when your bloody wedding was going to be until I got home! Remember when we were children Petunia? Playing outside together and pretending that you were getting married? Back then I was your Maid of Honour. And now? Now I'm not even part of the fucking bridal party," you spit at her.

"That was just a school child's fantasy," she scoffs. "How about you do me a favour Lily? Don't get me any wedding gifts, just stay away from me and my new family after the wedding."

"Why wait until then?" you growl. "I could just start right now."

And with that, you apparate, leaving her alone on the damp pavement.

In hindsight, apparating with no specific place in mind was a pretty reckless and dangerous thing to do, but thankfully you didn't splinch yourself.

You end up in a cramped alleyway, just off of Diagon Alley. Your drenched to the bone within minutes as the rain falls heavily around you, blocking out every other sound.

You scream in frustration. You scream and scream and scream, sometimes various profanities, sometimes just nonsensical shrieks. You scream until you voice goes hoarse and your throat begins to ache. But even then there's still a lot of pent up frustration that's just dying to get out. You pick up an empty Butterbeer bottle and hurl it at a wall, watching as it shatters in to a million fragments of glass.

"Evans?" someone's incredulous voice calls from the front of alley. You whip around, wand in your hand faster than someone could say 'thunderstorm.'

Squinting through the sheets of rain, you can make out a blurry figure that belongs to the one and only James Potter. You relax once you've realized that it's not a Death Eater, but tense up once more as you wonder what one earth Potter's doing in an alley in the middle of a rainstorm.

"What are you doing you mad woman?" he asks, taking a few steps forward. He's dripping wet, like you, but he seems to have placed an impervious charm on his glasses so that they wouldn't get blurry. His t shirt sticks to his chest (you try not to stare… too much) and his usually messy hair is plastered to his head.

"Trying not to commit first degree murder," you reply in a clipped tone, gripping your wand so hard you thought it might break.

"What's wrong Lily?" he asks in a soft voice. He turns you around to face him and immediately you anger dissipates, leaving you struggling not to cry. You sniff.

"My sister is the world's biggest arse," you mutter, angrily swiping at your tears.

"I thought that was my title," he jokes as he hugs you.

You try to control your shaky breathing before asking, "What you doing here?"

"Sirius finally bought that motorbike he's wanted for so long," he says.

"Sirius bought a motorbike? Good God…"

"Yeah, that was my reaction when he told me that he wanted one. He got it today and decided that we should go get some celebratory Butterbeers over at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh, I'm keeping you from your meeting," you say as you disentangle yourself from him. "I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter. "Eh, it's fine. He's gone home with the thing and told me to wait for him over at the bar. He probably won't be here for another twenty minutes. The blighter insisted on ricing the thing home."

A small giggle escapes you. "Of course he would."

"That's Sirius. Now, what made you want to commit murder?"

The little smile that you have on your lips immediately disappears. "My bloody sister," you grumble. Immediately all of the hurtful things that the two of you said to each other flow back into your mind. _Just stay away from my and my new family._ You start to cry again.

"Hey," he says, cradling your face in his hands. "Relax. What happened?"

"She told me to stay away from her forever," you say through sobs. "She- she _hates_ me James. My own sister fucking hates me."

You continue to cry into his chest as the rain falls around you both. James is stroking your hair and muttering words of comfort to you. You can't help but think that James deserves a medal for putting up with you and your mood swings.

You cry until you can't produce any more tears. Once your shaking and shuddering has stopped, he presses a light kiss to your temple.

"Feel better now?" he asks, his chest vibrating against you.

"Not really."

He chuckles. "Well maybe you're not all cried out as yet."

You snort delicately and brush the wet hair out of your face. "I doubt that. If I cry any more I might became dehydrated."

He looks at you for a moment before slowly lowering his head down and gently pressing his lips to yours in a light, brief kiss. He breaks away after a second, but leaves his forehead resting against yours. You're stunned. Aren't you the one who does all the spontaneous kissing in this messed up relationship the two of you have?

"What about now?"

You don't respond and he laughs at your dumbstruck expression.

"You just kissed me," you say foolishly.

"That I did."

"_Why?_"

He shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Because you look rather pathetic Ginger. Thought a good snog might cheer you up. Clearly I was wrong."

"That wasn't a snog," you scoff.

"Oh, so you _want_ me to snog you?" The idiot looks rather smug about this.

"I never said that." You're blushing now.

"It was implied."

"Implied? I never implied anything of the sorts! I was merely pointing out that you-"

"Hey Ginge?"

"- were wrong in saying- What?"

"Shut up."

And then he covers your mouth with his.

You're surprised at first, but soon enough your eyes flitter close and your hands are knotted in his hair. The rain water mixes together with his unique spice flavour, proving to be an exhilarating combination that leaves you yearning for more. His hands are everywhere; your face, your hips, your hair. You find yourself backed against the wall, moulded against James. This kiss is raw, hungry and passionate, completely different from the past two as it seems that all boundaries and lines are thrown out the window. It's maddening.

The wet fabric of your clothing sticks to his as he pulls you even tighter against him. Everywhere where there's skin on skin contact burns as though someone set fire to you. He breaks away for a second, brushing his thumb across your cheek before kissing down your neck. Your eyes close and you try to suppress a breathy sigh. He flicks his tongue at a droplet of water running down your collarbone, causing you to gasp and tug on his hair.

Slowly, your hands move down from his head, over his chest and pulls at the hem of his t shirt. You easily inch them under the garment and rake your finger nails over his bare chest. This elicits a moan from him and he nips at your neck. Somewhere in the back of your mind you register that his hands are already under your shirt and happened to have been happily resting there for quite some time. You scratch at his chest again, feeling his heart pounding beneath your palms. You're pretty sure that yours is beating the same way. His skin his hot under your wandering hands as you make it your mission to inspect every inch of his chest.

He teases the area behind your ear; making you, no matter how pathetic it makes you sound, whimper. At this point you have no qualms of him snogging you in to oblivion; your morals were tossed out the proverbial window with the boundaries and lines.

"Lily," he groans, his lips delicately stroking your ear in the most delicious of ways as he speaks. "We have to… to stop."

You drag him back to you, resting your forehead against his. You grin up at him. "Take your own advice Potter and shut up."

You pull his face down to yours and give him a long hard kiss. He doesn't seem to object to it. In fact, he readily agrees as one hand tangles in your hair while the other one is making slow circles on the outside of your ribcage. You don't know how long the two of you stand there; just kissing in the rain, but it's long enough to make you go brain dead. Eventually, the frenzied nature of the kisses start to slow down and turn in to soft, languorous ones that seem to have every nerve ending alive, buzzing with electricity.

After a few more languid kisses, the two of you finally pull away, taking deep breaths.

"Come with me," you suddenly say, looking him straight in the eye. His hazel irises look like pools of gold and you could see tiny water droplets hanging off his eyelashes from behind his glasses which are a bit lopsided. "Come with me to her wedding."

His eyebrows scrunch together. "What?"

"Come with me to my sister's wedding," you repeat. "As my date."

"You asking me out, Evans?" he says, a ghost of a smirk playing around his lips.

You give him a noncommittal shrug and wring out your hair.

"I should say no."

"I'll just ask Sirius then. Merlin knows he's much better looking than you."

"Harsh Ginger. And here I thought that we might have something special," he jokes.

"Oh never. I just need someone there to make sure I don't get drunk out of my tree and stun me if I decide to do anything too dangerous or risqué."

"So technically I'm going to babysit you for the entire day?"

"More or less yes. It's this Sunday and I'm positive that it would piss off Petunia."

"Well," he pretends to look thoughtful. "I don't think I have anything better to do on Sunday so I guess I could babysit my barmy mate."

"Great."

"But what exactly do my babysitting duties include?"

"Not much. You just come with me to the church for the ceremony, stop me from ditching the reception, physically drag me to the reception, make sure I don't insult anyone to their face too much and keep me from hexing anyone during the speeches. Petunia and Vernon in particular. Oh, and make sure to wear something muggle," you list out.

He raises an eyebrow. "That's it? You sure you don't have anything else to add like save the Wizarding world during dessert?" he asks sarcastically.

"Mmm… you can do that if you want. Just don't make too much of a scene."

"You're mental, Evans. You really are."

"So you've told me."

"Come on," he says, taking your hand. "Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius is probably waiting there to skin me and turn me in to a jacket." He chuckles at this for reasons unknown to you.

"What's so funny?" you ask.

"Nothing. It's a Marauder joke. You wouldn't understand."

You open your mouth to retort, but he flashes you that stupid grin of his and says, "Come on; I'll make Sirius buy you a Butterbeer."

The two of you dash through the rain and into the bar where a very annoyed looking Sirius is sitting and waiting on his best friend.

Perhaps you shouldn't have let James start snogging you, especially after you vowed to yourself to stay away from his stupid mouth forever. That lasted for what? A month? And that was only because you didn't see him until today. And even when you did see him today you were suddenly made aware of how much you've missed him.

So yeah, maybe you'll regret asking him to accompany you to your sister's wedding later on, but right now you're just intent on laughing it up with the two boys while enjoying your Butterbeer and evening in general.

Regret can wait.

* * *

**_I don't know, something just feels… off with this chapter. Maybe it's because it's not as long as I wanted it to be, but I hope you all don't mind. Next chapter will be longer. Promise._**

**_So things are starting to heat up now. But don't worry. Just because Lily asked him to be her 'date' for the wedding doesn't mean that everything is going to be sunshine daisies and rainbows for this couple. Nope. The drama is just getting started._**

**_Also, fair warning, I go back out to school on Monday which means that updates will unfortunately be less frequent as classes, babysitting, my dance lessons and tutoring will be back in full swing leaving me with little to no breathing room in between. I'll try my best to update at least every two weeks, but don't count on it too much._**

**_Reviews are better than getting a hug from James Potter. Okay, not really._**

**_~Ani :)_**


	6. Cut Off

_**A/N: Wow, it's been a while. All I can say is, school. I'm basically going to be in exam mode for the next three and a half years so... Not to mention, I'm writing my lit exam on Friday and I don't know one damn thing. It seems that the past three years of lit has just flown out of my head. :/ Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's the longest one yet! Over 7000 words.**_

_**Anyway, thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are awesome! :D**_

_**Disclaimer: It ain't mine.**_

_**~Enjoy.**_

* * *

**Chapter 5- Cut Off**

You're not a huge fan of mornings. In fact, you think that anyone who gets out of bed before eight in the morning on their own accord is positively mental. Especially when it's a weekend during your summer vacation. Isn't that the entire point of getting a break from school? To relax and catch up from sleep? During your breaks you like to get at least ten hours of sleep. Last night you were up until half eleven helping your mum with last minute preparations. So when you're literally dragged out of bed at six thirty on a Sunday morning, well, you're a bit annoyed.

* * *

You let out a small yelp as something grabs your ankle roughly and tries to pull you off the bed. Your eyes immediately snap open (although your brain doesn't understand anything, as it's still asleep) and your hands flail about. You aren't sure if the trespasser is a friend or a foe. Although, you consider anyone who tries to get you off of your bed before eight in the morning a foe. In the midst of the flailing/ yelping debacle, you manage to clip your wrist on the corner of your bedside table as you tried to find your wand. This causes you to swear loudly and roll off the bed landing on your wonderful carpeted floor with a thud.

What a lovely way to greet the day.

"What the bloody hell do you want?!" you yell at the intruder, finally grabbing your wand off the bedside table and aiming it at them. However, in your half asleep state, you won't be surprised if you somehow hex yourself.

_"Get that thing out of my face!"_ a shrill voice, which can probably wake the dead, screams.

You're fully awake now.

Rubbing your eyes, you glare at Petunia, who was, in turn, glaring at your wand.

"What are you doing in my room? I thought you didn't want anything to do with 'the freak'?" you ask bitterly, stowing your wand in the waistband of your pants as you got off the floor.

"I don't," She sniffs with disdain. "But mummy is busy and someone has to get you out of here before the bridesmaids show up."

"Get me out of here?" you echo, your brow knitting together in confusion.

"God Lily," Petunia groans. "How thick are you?"

"Wait, you're kicking me out of my own room?" you ask, barely containing your anger. Your hand twitches towards your wand, wanting nothing more than to send a harmless jinx at your sister and then climb back into your nice warm bed to get some more blissful hours of sleep.

You shake your head; you've been spending too much time with Potter and Black. They're a bad influence on you. You never take the James Potter approach to life and hex any and everything in your way. Nope, you prefer to resolve things diplomatically, like the little peace maker you are.

Well, most of the time.

"Petunia, why exactly do I have to leave? I live here. This is _my_ room," you say exasperatedly.

Your sister makes a strange sound, something akin to cat being run over by a lawn mower. "Because the bridal party is coming here to get ready and we'll need as much space as possible so you only have half an hour to get your things together and get out. I will not have you in the way of everything and mess up my wedding!" she shrieks.

"How on earth will I mess up your wedding if I stay here?" you yell back, your temper flaring up.

"Of course you'll mess it up! You'll inevitably do some freaky unnatural thing and mess it up!" she replies. Her face is flushed and her hair is coming out of the hastily thrown together bun. "So get packing. And don't leave any of your… freak crap lying around either. We'll be doing make up in here and I don't want any books suddenly springing to life and trying to bite my head off."

"I'm not going anywhere Petunia," you snap, folding your arms across your chest and sitting on your bed. Your face is set in a scowl and you just about ready to get into the character of a brooding teenage girl when your dad walks in.

"Girls!" he says sternly, leaning against the doorframe. Within the past few weeks that you've been home, your dad has gotten thinner and you can see that it's become painful for him to perform menial tasks like walking up the stairs or doing the dishes. You wish you could help him someway, but in this case magic is practically useless since cancer isn't as prevalent in the Wizarding world as here in the muggle one. "Please, can you two not argue like that for once? Lily, listen to your sister please," you open your mouth to protest, but he raises a finger. "And Petunia, I'm sure there was a nicer way to wake up your sister."

"But daddy!" You whine. "She's kicking me out! If I can't stay here then where'll I go to get ready for the wedding?"

"You'll go by your grandmother since she insisted on staying in a hotel. Both of us will benefit. You have somewhere to get ready and I won't have to listen to your grandmother criticise my and your mother's parenting techniques."

"I think I'm getting the shorter end of the stick here," you say wryly, your mouth twisting into a frown.

"Lily," he says, frustrated. "_Please_."

"Fine," you mutter, still frowning. You ignore the smug look on Petunia's face as she leaves the room.

"Good girl," your dad says, coming over by you and sitting on the bed. You suddenly remember back when you were younger and how you and Petunia used to crawl in to your parent's bed at night and make your dad read you story after story until you feel asleep. That seemed to be lifetimes ago.

"Don't worry about your sister," he says conversely in a low tone. "She's just a little tense. Everyone's tense on their wedding day. But that's not something that you should be concerned about for a long time."

"Daddy," you laugh, lightly shoving his shoulder and ignoring the light blush that has sprung to your cheek.

"I'm serious Lils. Now hurry up before Petunia pops a blood vessel stressing over you. Personally, I'd have been happy to get away from all this madness," he adds in a conspiring tone.

You sigh. "Fine," you say petulantly, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy this."

"That's my girl," he says, kissing your forehead. "Now go on; stop dilly- dallying and get cracking." And with that, your dad leaves you all alone once more in your room.

After a few minutes, you get up and start packing your things. You place an extension charm on your little golden clutch so that it can hold all the things that you need for today. That includes your make up, dress, shoes and wand. You also have an old copy of Pride and Prejudice, which looks as though it has seen better days, that you'll be reading when the ceremony becomes boring. This basically means that you're going to be reading within the first five minutes of the thing.

Once you're sure that you have everything that you need, you take a shower and change in to a pair of shorts and a pale blue shirt. You quickly pass a brush through your wet hair before heading downstairs for breakfast.

Your mother is in the kitchen, one hand holding the phone to her ear and the other gesticulating wildly. You're worried that it might get hooked in the phone cord and end up breaking something. Something tells you that she's talking to her mum.

Thankfully, the kitchen table is clear of wedding related paraphernalia, and instead covered with platters of little cucumber sandwiches, pastries and a pitcher of lemonade. You make move to grab a little tart, when a French manicured hand pops out of nowhere and slaps your hand away.

You yell out in surprise, and stumble backward.

Your sister is standing there, hands on her hip and platinum blonde hair rolled in curlers.

"What do you thing you're doing?" she asks.

"Well I was getting something to eat," you say disgruntledly. Petunia is really testing your patience this morning.

"These are for members of the bridal party only," she hisses. "Last time I checked you weren't part of that."

"Last time I checked I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted to, in this house," you grumble under your breath. Unfortunately, Petunia hears you, resulting in her narrowing her eyes at you before walking out of the kitchen. You simply just roll your eyes and grab a slice of toast from the counter before viciously taking a bite out of it. However, at that moment, a large eagle owl swooped in through the kitchen window.

It lands on the counter next you and hoots happily three times before sticking its leg out proudly, to reveal a roll of parchment. You quickly untie it and open it, giving the owl a bit of your toast to nibble on. The letter appears to be from James, inquiring as to where he should meet you for the wedding. Swearing softly, you rip a piece of the parchment and quickly scratched out a response, giving him the address of your grandmother's hotel and her room number. You tie it back to the owl's leg, and were just about to give it instructions when a loud shriek is heard from the doorway.

"What is this filthy animal doing here in the kitchen?! _Get it out!"_ Petunia yells shrilly.

"Petunia, darling, it's just an owl," Your mother says, trying to calm her down. "I'm sure you've seen-"

But Petunia was having none of that. Instead she continued her yelling, this time directed at you.

"And _you_!" she jabs you in the shoulder. "What do you think you're doing having this… this _untamed beast_ in our house?! Did you give your freak friends our address or something? Are freaks going to be popping up left right and centre now? Ugh! God Lily; why can't you be normal for once?!"

At this point she is red in the face and the poor owl, which was scared out of its wits by Petunia's yelling, is already out the window flying as fast as it could to escape your mad house. You don't blame it. You don't particularly want to be here either. So taking a deep breath, you roughly push your sister out of the way and grab your clutch of the table. Looking Petunia straight in the eye, you tightly grasp your wand and turn on the spot and disapparated with a loud _'crack!'_

What a lovely way to greet the day.

* * *

Your grandmother was a diminutive woman who scared the living daylights out of you.

Grandmother Daisy was just barely five feet tall with a mass of curly grey hair that was once upon a time a dark shade of red, similar to yours and light brown eyes. She was already dressed for the wedding, wearing a pale peach dress and gold shoes. Her hair was put up in a simple twist, and had blended in bright pink rouge in to her porcelain cheeks that matched with her lipstick. A golden clutch similar to yours was held firmly in her hand, which was adorned with her silver wedding ring and some bangles. Once she saw that it was you, who was knocking at her door she opened it a bit wider to let you in and said,

"Dear Lord child; you can't possibly be going to the wedding dressed like that." She was obviously referring to your make up less, wet hair, shorts-and-a-t shirt ensemble.

"Hello to you too grandmother," you sigh, bending down to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, yes; Hello Lily Christine. Now get inside. Heavens know how you're going to manage to look presentable for the wedding with so little bit of time." You try to remind her that the wedding starts at ten thirty and it was only seven, but she won't have that. Nope, not at all. As far as your grandmother is concerned, she's right and everyone else is wrong. "I don't know why on earth your mother let you out of the house dressed like that. In my days, it was completely scandalous if someone allowed his daughter out wearing inappropriate clothing. Why, I remember this one time…"

You know it's rather uncouth, but you can't help but to ignore your grandmother after a while. You love her, really you do, but when she starts talking about her teenage years… well, it gets a little boring.

So, to ease your guilty conscience, you set about making some tea for you and your grandmother. You set two cups on the table and pour out the steaming brown liquid in to both. Your grandmother is still telling her story, only pausing here and there to take a sip of her tea. The fact that you're not allowed to move from your spot on the sofa until she's finished doesn't go pass you. Isn't she the same woman who was just berating you for not being as ready as yet? And now she's sitting you down and making you listen to stories that happened over fifty years ago? Grandmothers. They're all a mass of contradictions.

After about fifteen minutes of you diligently nodding along (when in fact you were just daydreaming about something or the other), Grandmother Daisy finally noticed the time and sent you off to get ready.

Honestly, you only need around half an hour to get ready because you have the help of this little thing called magic. But nonetheless, you assiduously head towards the bathroom to take another shower. You try to draw out the process for as long as you could, but no matter what you did (and you did everything from shaving your legs to washing your hair _again_) it only took twenty minutes. Sighing, you place your wand on the bathroom counter before rummaging through your purse for your hairbrush. Once you've found it, you wave your wand to dry your hair and then start to brush out the tangles. After that's done, you wave your wand once more so that your hair fell in perfectly straight sheets down your back. Happy with the results of your hair, your grab your dress from the bag and cast an anti-wrinkling charm on it before shimmying into it.

You don't bother to put on any make up, and the only pieces of jewellery you wear are a pair of earrings and a simple gold bracelet. As soon as you spray some perfume, you start to pack up, heading back in to the living room where your grandmother is waiting once you're done. According to the clock on the mantel, it's only a bit past eight. You still have two hours until you need to be seated at the church for the wedding.

Groaning to yourself, you extract your battered book from your purse and take a seat next to your grandmother, who was engrossed in today's copy of the newspaper, and did not notice you pull out a novel from a small hand clutch. Settling yourself in a squishy armchair, you open the book and quickly get lost in the midst of nineteenth century England.

After what seemed like half an hour (it was probably more; you usually lose track of time when reading) the phone (which was in the bedroom) starts to ring (very loudly and shrilly). Both you and your grandmother pause in your readings of your various scripts. Putting the paper down with a sigh, your grandmother gets up and shuffles in to the bedroom, putting a stop to the annoying ringing.

You're just about to start back reading again, when a knock is heard from the hotel door. As Grandmother Daisy is on the phone with someone, you had to put down your book and answer the door.

Not even bothering to check who it is, you pull open the door and are immediately greeted with the sight of the one only James Potter.

You can't deny that James's looks dashing in his suit as he stands in front of you. It's a black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt underneath, where the first two buttons of his shirt were undone to expose the slightly tanned skin of his throat. His hair is a mess as usual and his glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose while his hazel eyes glint behind them. He's wearing a crooked grin, which only gets bigger when you open the door.

"'Lo Evans," he greets, tipping an imaginary top hat at you.

"James," you reply. "You look nice." Your eyes rove over him once more.

"Well of course I do," he scoffs. "I am James Potter, quidditch extraordinaire and Transfiguration genius."

"And modest too," you say wryly, crossing your hands across your chest and observing him. It's strange to think that just a few months ago if someone had told you that James Potter was going to be your date (you still don't know how you feel about that word being associated to him and you) to your sister's wedding, you would probably smack them at the back of the head for thinking such a thing.

James winks at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. "So am I going to have to stand out here all day like an idiot, or are you going to invite me in?"

"Oh, you look like an idiot all the time; standing there isn't going to make much of a difference."

"Thanks Ginger. I can really feel the love." Sarcastically.

"You're welcome," you reply, shooting him a cheeky smile but nonetheless moving aside to let him in.

"Who's at the door child?" your grandmother asks as she comes out from the room. She stops short at the sight of James and gives him a once over, inspecting him closely. He smiles charmingly at her, the same smile he not so long ago used on your mother, and she narrows her eyes at him. "You, boy, don't you own a comb?" she reprimands him. James opens his mouth to reply, but she cuts him off. "Never mind. Today's youth has the craziest fashion trends." She grabs her purse from the table before turning to you and saying, "Your cousins are downstairs waiting for me. Your mother told me you'll be able to find your own way to the wedding?"

You nod. "Yes grandmother."

"Good. Heavens know that seven of us can't fit in the car. Let's go. I'm not mad enough to leave two teenagers alone in my hotel room. Now come along Lily Christine," she says before pointing at James, who was standing awkwardly besides you. "What's your name, child?" she demands.

"James Potter ma'am. I go to school with Lily," he replies promptly, standing stick straight. You have to fight hard to stop the smile from appearing on your face. It wasn't every day you saw a six foot something teenage boy whose entire aura practically screams 'troublemaker,' looking down at a little old woman, who was barely five feet tall, with fear.

"Lovely. Now get downstairs, both of you. And Lily Christine, do something about that hair; it's a disgrace," she barks, trying to clip back the tendrils of hair that fell in to your face.

"Yes grandmother."

You and James wait in the lobby of the hotel until your cousin's car drives around a bend. As soon as it's out of site, you turn to him with a fake smile (one that he can so obviously see through) and say,

"So are you ready to go the most hellish wedding ever to be?"

"I'm sure 'hellish' is too harsh of an adjective to describe the wedding," James chuckles.

"Maybe for you it is," you acquiesce. "But in my world, that adjective fits in nicely."

James just shakes his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I'll never understand you, Ginger."

"I'll never understand me either. Now come on. If were late, my mother would probably have my head."

"What about my head?" he jokes, as you grab his hand, getting ready to apparate.

"Oh, she'll leave it alone. Apparently she likes you some reason. I haven't the foggiest as to why."

"Everyone likes me Ginger. It's because I'm the handsome, talented, Transfiguration genius also known as James Potter."

"I don't like you. And didn't you use that line already?"

"Of course you like me. And yeah, I did. I only used it again, because it's true."

"Why would I like you? Whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter."

"Face it, you like me Ginger. I mean, what's not to like?"

"… Do you really want an answer to that?"

"Shut up Evans. Let's just get to that damn wedding. Stop procrastinating by arguing with me."

"Damn. How'd you realise I was procrastinating?"

"You're not exactly subtle, Lily."

"Shove it Potter."

And with that, you apparated away from the hotel lobby and into the small field next to the church. You'll never really get used to the feeling of apparation. It makes you feel a bit short of breath.

As you appeared with a 'pop', both you and James stumble a bit on the uneven terrain. Gathering your balance quickly, the two of you start making you way towards the church. You're by no means late, but you can see that the majority of the guests have already arrived.

Without a backward glance to see if James was following you or not, you hurry off towards the church.

Guests were teeming at the entranced, and you spot several family members amongst them. You wave at your mother, who waves back, but once she sees James you are forgotten once again. You roll your eyes. Of course. Whenever James Potter is around, Lily Evans is automatically forgotten, when it comes to her mother.

Shaking your head as she engages him in conversation, you take the opportunity to take a good look at the hall.

You will admit that it's decorated beautifully, but the whole thing just screams 'Petunia.' Everything from pristine white columns that line the aisle, with miniature roses and petunias atop them to the giant arc made entirely out of flowers that surround the altar.

You continue looking around the vast room as James and your mother laugh it up behind you, waving at the occasional family member. People slowly trickle in, eagerly talking and laughing. It is, after all, supposed to be a joyous occasion, but somehow you can't find yourself to be as happy as all those people. A part of you is ashamed to admit it, but it's true. You are happy for your sister, but you don't understand how she could get married to someone like Vernon. He is horrible. He is pompous, and thought that he is above the Evans's. Not to mention that he absolutely loathes you.

Suddenly, you are jolted out of your reverie by your mother who says, "Lily dear, can you please take this to your sister? I've forgotten and I'm afraid that she might get a fit if she doesn't get it immediately. That is," she added wryly, "If she didn't have one already."

"Sure thing mum," you sigh. You honestly didn't want to see Tuney as yet. Especially before Mrs soon- to- be- Dursely's wedding where she's bound to be a bundle of nerves.

She hands you a little black box and gives directions as to where and how you could find your sister. You take it and set off on your journey.

After opening the doors to the bridesmaids' room, a server room and a supply closet, you finally found Petunia's. You knock tentatively on the door.

"About time, mother. The wedding is about- oh, it's you," she says once she sees you. Without another word, she grabs the box from your hands and carries it to her dressing table. She left the door open, which you assume means that you can enter. As long as you don't touch anything of course.

"You look really pretty, Tuney," you say in a small voice. And she did. Her hair was done up in an intricate twist, with the same miniature roses that aisle had, and her makeup was kept simple. She had a certain glow about her, which assumed to be associated with weddings.

"Thank you," she said curtly. "So do you."

There was a tense pause. Both of you were remembering what happened back at the dress shop.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you rapidly change the subject and say, "So what's it like to be getting married?"

A blissful smile crept on to her face and for the first time in years, she actually looked at you with warmth, and without a single trace of loathing.

"Wonderful."

And without another word at you, she opened the box that you brought. Inside it, swatted between layers upon layers of cotton wool was a beautiful silver necklace. It had a large sapphire pendant which was surrounded by a delicate web of silver attached to the top to hold it up.

Petunia must have heard your soft gasp, as she turns to you and say, "It's mum's. It used to belong to grandmother before, but she gave it to her. She wore it at her wedding and agreed to let me borrow it."

"It's gorgeous," you whisper.

Without responding, she closes the back of the catch behind her neck and the stone drops onto her collarbone.

"It's almost time for the wedding to start," she says brusquely while watching her reflection in the mirror. "You should get going."

"But-"

"Go."

Eyes prickling, you turn and head back to the hall where the guests are seated already. Petunia was right. The wedding is going to start soon. Even Vernon was already there and organ was getting ready to start playing the bridal march. You scan the crowd, easily spotting James's messy head amongst everyone else and quickly slip in, ignoring the disapproving looks that your mother and grandmother sent your way.

Sliding into the pew, you keep your eyes firmly on the floral arch at the front. James opens his mouth to ask the obvious question: where were you and why do you look as though you want to cry? However, before he could utter a single syllable, the bridal procession slowly marches in, so he has to settle for a questioning look. You don't look at him. Instead, you swear to keep your eyes on ceremony.

You watch as all the bridesmaids float in with their respective groomsmen, a part of you wanting nothing more than to be up there with them. Soon enough, it's Petunia's turn to enter. Everyone stands and you see Vernon's face light up with pride, joy and _love_. Your dad walks in, smiling as though he's trying not to cry as yet. Your mum and Grandmum are already sniffling in to their handkerchiefs. He hands her over to Vernon. Both of them look at each other with pure adoration. It surprises you. You've seen that exact look before on your parents.

The audience sits is told to sit, and James grasps your hand as they do. The priest begins speaking. As soon as Vernon and Petunia start saying there vows, you can't help it. The tears that were threatening to fall in the dressing are here once more. You don't try to stop them thins time, though. You just let them fall, each one taking its precious time in travelling slowly down your face.

James squeezes your hand as you start crying.

* * *

After the ceremony, there's a huge amount of cheering and clapping as the happy couple made their way down the aisle and out the church. They get in to Vernon's car and drive of towards the hotel where the reception was going to be held. You watch the car drive out of sight before grabbing hold of James's hand, preparing to apparate, when he stops you.

"Hey," he says, looking at you carefully, "You okay?"

It was a valid question really. The crying only lasted a few minutes, but after that you had gotten withdrawn, not even bothering to meet James's eyes, or anyone's for that matter, during the rest of the ceremony. You just stared at your clenched hands, watching your knuckles progressively getting whiter and whiter as you listened to the priest recite the vows and whatnot in a monotonous voice.

"I'm fine. At least I think so at any rate," you reply, blinking to clear your eyes.

"Alright, if you say so," he says, still looking at you cautiously. Grabbing his hand once again, you apparate to the hotel, where the guests are waiting for the reception to begin.

The room is rather pretty, but it isn't as lavishly decorated as the church. Instead, it is kept simple. The tables are covered in white silk table clothes, and the chairs left plain white. The centre pieces were made up of the same flowers as that of the church and a giant chandler hung over the dance floor. The tables surrounded the dance floor, with the main table right at the front. You drag James to the table furthest from the main table. The band was now setting up and waiters were scuttling around, serving hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. You grab two glasses of a nearby tray for James and yourself. It was only after you've drunk nearly the entire glass did you realise that you and James are still underage by muggle standards.

You laugh, which catches James's attention. Curious, he asks you what's so funny before taking another sip of his drink, which causes you to laugh even more. Betweens your short bursts of laughter, you explain how the two of you are technically breaking the law by drinking alcohol while you're still underage. Being a pureblood, James doesn't understand muggle laws and you end up having to explain to him that in the muggle world, people come of age at eighteen. Once he understands, he doesn't find it all that funny. He says that you've had too much champagne and takes your glass away. You snatch back.

"Nah ah ah," James grins, wagging a finger at you as he takes back the glass once more.

"Hey!" you yell indignantly. "Give it back, you wanker! I'm not drunk!"

"How do I know that someone didn't slip something into it? Isn't that part of my babysitting rules?" he responds, pushing the glass out of your grasp.

"No one's slipped anything in to my sodding drink! Now give it back!"

"Do you know that for sure? Have you been watching it from since it came out the bottle? Or from sine it was bottled?" He's having much too fun with this.

"Well, no, but-"

"Constant vigilance, Evans," James smirks.

That stops you. "Constant what?"

"Constant vigilance," he replies. "It's practically Mad Eye Moody's mantra."

"Mad Eye who now?" you say, thoroughly confused.

James recoils, looking at you in shock. "You don't know who Mad Eye is?"

"Evidently," you reply dryly. "Who is he?"

"Why, he's the best auror that the Ministry's ever seen!" he says enthusiastically.

"Really?" you ask, wondering how it was possible that you didn't know this before.

He nods. "Yeah; virtually half the cells in Azkaban are filled because of him," he pauses and gives you wry look. "I assume you know what Azkaban is, right?"

You elbow him in the rib. "Of course I bloody know what Azkaban is! I'm not stupid!"

"Sometimes you make me wonder, Evans," James grins, before ducking as your fist swung in his direction.

The two of you would have carried on even more, if there wasn't a call for silence as the speeches were about to begin.

After several mind numbing speeches (you will shamelessly admit that you didn't listen to a single one. Oh well) the food was served. You and James both agree that it has nothing on that the Hogwarts house elves cook. Then it was time for the customary father daughter dance. Everyone 'oohed' and 'aahed' appropriately as your father and Petunia twirled around the dance floor.

A few hours later, and you're still found sitting at the same table with James, cackling like a pair of loons. The two of you had spent the better part of two hours laughing at some of the truly garish dresses some ladies had chosen to wear (Mrs Fortuna had elected to wear a plum coloured dress with a lime green hat and matching accessories), judging how drunk some of the guests were (you predicted that Mr O'Brien was due to fall over any minute now, judging by his slurred speech) and creating back stories for the rest (according to James, Mrs Fortuna was cheating on her husband with Mr O'Brien, the slag.)

All in all, it was a rather good way to pass two hours that didn't involve hexing someone into oblivion.

Right now, you're struggling to control your laughter as James continues to explain every detail of the alleged sordid affair going on between the three guests. Eventually, you can't help it anymore and burst out laughing. Some of the guests seated nearby look at you strange.

It's at the moment that your dad drops in. He seems a bit out of breath, but other than that he looks to be in good spirits.

"Hi Lils," he says, giving you a one armed hug. "Enjoying yourself?"

Even though the look you gave him spoke for itself, the grin (that you were struggling to control) and light flush adorning your face said otherwise.

He is about to make some sort of amusing comment, no doubt, but then his gaze lands on James, who's looking like a deer caught in headlights, and intensifies in to a glare. You would have laughed if you weren't so terrified that your dad would go in to crazy, overprotective, you- better- not- lay- a- hand- on- my- innocent- daughter- or- I'll- have- your- head mode. You don't blame him though. James's entire demeanour screamed 'troublemaker,' as if he was the kind of boy to get caught with his hand in your pants after curfew and not give a damn about it. No dad would want his daughter dating that type of guy. Hell, no dad would want their daughter to even be _acquainted_ with that type of guy.

"Who are you?" he asks, not unkindly.

"James Potter, sir," he replies promptly, reaching out shake your dad's hand. "I'm Lily's-"

"Friend!" you blurt out. You had no idea what he was going to say, but he definitely wasn't going to say 'friend.' "James is a friend from school dad."

"Oh," the intensity of his stare seemed to lessen a bit when you said that James was just your friend. "You're the boy my wife won't stop going on about."

"Er," James's hand jumped to hair, "Yeah, I guess." There's a light blush staining his cheeks now.

There's a very uncomfortable pause right now, as neither of you know how to carry on the rest of this very painful, very awkward conversation. Eventually, you manage to clear your throat and say,

"James is the captain of the quidditch team, daddy. I know you've always told me you wanted to know how it's played. Maybe he could explain it to you as I have no idea how to." You smile at your father, and expect James to make some sort of comment about your poor quidditch skills. He doesn't. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all until you sharply jab him in the stomach, causing him to suck in a breath. You glare at him, silently telling him: _explain it or else you're not leaving here alive_. Although, you're not sure he gets your silent message as he isn't looking in your direction.

"Really?" your dad seems pleased at this. "I've always wanted to know how it was done since Lily wrote about it back in first year."

"Well it's quite simply actually," James says, before jumping right in to the intricacies of quidditch, using terms that doesn't sound simple at all to you. However your father is there nodding along, doing his best to keep up with James's fast paced explanation. You watch both of them and laugh silently. If it was one thing members of the male species could bond on, it was sports.

* * *

The wedding came to an end shortly after your father and James had finished their talk about quidditch. There was the throwing of the bouquet, the cutting of the cake and the final toast before, with a resounding cheer, the happy couple left the reception hall to get started on their Honeymoon. You think Petunia said something along the lines of the Caribbean. Or was it Spain? You honestly can't remember. All you know, is that wherever she's going, it does not have rain every hour of every day.

You and James are two of the last people to filter out of the hall. Ever since your talk with your father, James has become quieter, more subdued somehow. Something is obviously wrong, but you don't know what.

"James," you say, as the two of you are officially off the premises of the hotel. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shrugs.

"Bollocks. Something's obviously wrong," you reply.

"Nothing's wrong, Lily, leave it be," he sighs.

"No, I won't leave it be," you say, sticking out your chin. "You're my mate; I just want to know what's wrong."

"Fine," he snapped, his eyes sparkling with something unknown to you. Annoyance, maybe?

"Fine, you want to know what's wrong?" he says again.

"Yes, I do."

"You."

Beat.

Then, "W- what?" you stuttered.

"I'm never going to be any more than that, am I?" he says, continuing as if I didn't speak. "Never going to be anything other than your friend." He practically spits out the last word as though it's poisonous.

What is he talking-

_Oh._

"James-" you start, softly.

"No!" he says angrily. He whips around, leaving less than a foot of space between you all. "Damn it Lily. I- I feel something for you, and I'm pretty damn sure that it's not just friendship." His voice is raw with emotion and his eyes are gazing at you intensely, a chaotic swirl of browns, greens and greys.

"I-"

"And I'm sure that you know it too," he continues bitterly. "Girls always know, don't they? And I wasn't exactly subtle. And even if you didn't, you still played me like the fool I am, right Lily?"

"I did not-"

"You did! You knew that I would do anything you ask! I jumped through every goddamn hoop you threw at me, but it still isn't enough for Lily Evans is it?"

"Stop making it my fault!" you yell, finally being able to get a word in.

"It _is_ your fault!" he shouts back.

"How? When have I ever suggested that I wanted something more than friendship?"

"Oh, I don't know," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Call me crazy, but all those times you jumped me and snogged me-"

"You know the reasons behind those, James-"

"So what's the reason behind the last time, huh?' he says, "Why did you kiss me last week?"

You're about to contrive some sort of excuse, but end up closing your mouth shut once more. Why _did_ you kiss him last week?

"See," he breathed victoriously. "See? Even _you_ don't know."

"You started it," you reply childishly, having come up with nothing better to say.

"And you could've stopped it at any time," he retorts.

You open your mouth to respond, but it is suddenly covered by James's. The kiss is hard and unrefined, but it still made your knees buckle and you stumble back in to the wall nonetheless. Your hands grab his shirt to keep you upright. Making a sound of disapproval, you pry your unwilling mouth away from his.

"Stop that," you order him.

He ignores you and says, "So tell me I'm crazy, Lily. Tell me that you snogging me three times and then asking me to be your date-"

"Babysitter," you interject hastily.

"-to your sister's fucking _wedding_ of all things, means nothing. Go on."

You can't.

"Lily," he whispers, gazing down at you once more. His voice sounds broken and ragged, as though arguing with you has tired him out. The mischievous sparkle is gone from his eyes.

"Tell me that all these weeks since the quidditch final haven't just been smoke and mirrors. Tell me that I'm not just seeing shadows of something that hasn't even existed in the first place. Tell me- just tell me _something_. Tell me that I'm not just your friend," he begs. His eyes are roving hungrily over your face, as though looking for something that wasn't there.

"James," you say quietly, bringing a hand to his cheek. He unconsciously leans in to your touch.

"I can't."

His eyes snap open, and a flash of hurt passes through them before they turn in to hard chips of hazel ice. Your heart contracts painfully in your chest.

"Fine," he replies curtly, keeping his eyes anywhere but you. "Fine then. But just know this, Lily. I'm done. I'm done being the bloody idiot who caters to your every whim and fancy. I'm done jumping through all of your hoops just to amuse you. I am fucking done," he snarls coldly, making you recoil as though he's slapped you. You turn your head to the side to avoid seeing his heart broken expression and instead focus on the weeds growing out from the pavement.

You don't look as he stalks of and disapparates. You don't see the last look he gives you. You don't see the broken expression he wears, nor do you see the pain in his eyes as he walks away, giving up on you once and for all. You sink down against the wall and end up crouching on the pavement, staring vacantly in to space as your brain is still trying to comprehend what just happened.

Why does it hurt so much if you weren't even in a relationship in the first place?

It's official, James Potter has cut off Lily Evans.

* * *

_**A/N: So on a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me?**_

_**Relationships are messy business. That's why I'm perfectly content to sit at home on a Saturday night and write fanfiction with my two cats. Yep... I have no idea when the next update will be. Probably when life decides to give me a break. Which happens once every blue moon. I have classes six days a week and the only day I have off is Sunday, which is used to do homework and catch up on homework.**_

_**READ PLEASE**__**: If I write a separate story in James's POV about how HE feels after all of this, would you guys read it? **_

_**Review? :)**_

_**~twilightstargazer**_


	7. Withdrawal Symptoms

_**I know, it's been forever since the last update, but bear with me.**_

_**Thanks to TinyRules, Mars24, Obsessed-and-Undecided, gilyanna, CrescentMoon12 and my anons for reviewing!**_

_**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Unfortunately there's no James in this chapter :( but there's a lot of angst-y Lily :) Don't worry; he'll make an appearance in the next (which I have started already wink wink)**_

_**Enjoy~**_

* * *

**Chapter 6- Withdrawal Symptoms**

Interesting thing the ceiling is, you thought, as you continued to lie on your back just… staring. It was a simply ceiling, nothing overly special about it. It had no posters stuck on to it, no multitude of colours, no… nothing really. All it was, was a simply white ceiling with a bunch of cracks here and there. That was the fascinating part of it really, the cracks. You could probably find a million and one different images in the array of cracks. For example, those over there formed something that looked a bit like a heart. And that one over there looked like a… ah fuck. It looked like a goddamn _broomstick_ that one did. As if you needed another reminder of-

No.

Do not think of _that_ Lily, you chide yourself. Stop being a masochist. Think about anything else but _that_. Think about… about the ingredients for Felix Felicis. Remember that? You read it just last week, while Petunia was putting the finishing touches on everything that she needed for the wedding.

Damn.

You thought of _that_.

You try to keep the tears from brimming over. Honestly, you never thought you'd be the type to cry so much over someone who you _weren't even going out with_ in the first place. It's just so stupid- _he's_ so stupid- _you're_ so stupid- everything is just so fucking stupid. And the worst part is you don't even know whose fault it is. It's not wholly his, and it's not wholly yours.

It was like some cynical collaborative effort from the two of you, you think to yourself, groaning lightly.

Life, you can deduce, is much like your bedroom ceiling; full of cracks that can sometimes form a beautiful image but the majority just stand out, ugly and vividly against the white back round.

With a growl, you hastily wipe your hand over your eyes and roll over on to your belly, before promptly shoving your face into a pillow and groaning loudly. Your eyes are shut tightly, cutting of your view of the damned ceiling. However, this just seems to make things worst as his face is grinning at you from behind your eyelids. His stupid face with his stupid messy hair and his goddamn glasses that just make him look so fucking adorable that you just want jump him and snog the living daylights out of him because, as much as you didn't want it to be true, over the past couple of weeks or months or _whatever_, James Potter has grown on you and you can't help but _fancy_ the sodding idiot.

You snort at that thought.

Who'd ever thing this day would come? The day where Lily Evans realises and fully admits that she fancies the pants off James Potter. Unfortunately, that day happened to come around a day after James Potter vehemently stated that he wanted to have nothing to do with Lily Evans.

What a bitch karma is.

You're so caught up with your musings about how pathetic your life has become that you didn't here your room door quietly open and close.

Only when someone lightly coughs do you realise that there are other people in your room. You raise your head slightly only to see Mary and Marlene, both wearing identical masks of concern, before dropping back down on your pillow

"What are you doing here?" you ask them, mumbling in to the pillow so that they barely understood what you said.

"Your mum called me this morning. She said you were acting like some tortured soul, moaning and spending all your time locked up in this stuffy old room of yours," Mary explains, brushing her dark brown hair behind her ears. "And since I obviously won't be able to help, I owled Marlene and told her come with me. God knows she'll be much more effective at getting your lazy arse out of bed."

"Lovely," you sneer, burrowing deeper into your cocoon of blankets. "Unfortunately, visiting hours are over. Come back another day to view the angst ridden teenager."

"And this is how we know something's wrong," Marlene says, walking over to the bed. "You start being all sarcastic and condescending."

"I'm always sarcastic and condescending," you reply scathingly, your head still in the pillow. You feel the bed indent and you assume that one of them has sit down. Someone pulls back your hair.

"Oh, Lily," Mary says consolingly. "What happened?"

"Potter," You refuse to acknowledge the way your heart seems to painfully contract at his name. "Happened, that's what." You feel your throat constricting, but you refuse to cry again. Not after spending the entire night after the wedding sobbing over the pathetic (not really) arsehole.

"What happened?"

You raise you head out of the pillow and stare at them until it hits you. They don't know that you were snogging Potter, much less him being your date to your sister's wedding. In fact, as far as both Mary and Marlene are concerned, the two of you only kissed once; the night of Quidditch game during the after party. And after that there was the whole ignoring thing and then the two of you had mysteriously become the best of friends. They knew _nothing_.

And so that's how you ended up telling them about the last three and a half months. You told about all the snogging, the flirtatious banter that you two oh-so-innocently engaged in rather often, the disastrous wedding reception. You managed to get out the entire story despite you dysphoria, although it felt as though there was something heavy constricting your chest.

You talked, and they listened for about two hours. You barely made it to the kiss in the Astronomy tower before you started crying again. At the end of your story, you found yourself leant up against Mary's shoulder, with Marlene stroking your hair.

"That's it," you mumble shakily after you had managed to quell the tears for a bit. There was a pregnant pause before Marlene says again,

"Oh, Lily," and the two of them engulfed you in a big hug, causing you to start crying again.

They stayed by your side well into the evening, whispering condolences into your ear as you just stared at the blank wall.

* * *

You spent the next few days in bed, wallowing in self pity, wallowing in guilt, basically wallowing in general. Marlene and Mary had stopped by a few more times to check up on you. Last time you saw them was three days ago when Marlene had come into your room holding a letter. The three of you had gotten in to a dreadful row over it. They had written to James without your knowledge and then had the audacity to come over and ask you if you wanted to add anything to it. You screamed yourself hoarse at them, before eventually breaking down in more tears once they left, feeling guilty. They had left the letter –whether accidentally or purposely- in your room. You debated burning the contents of it, before realising that this won't do anything but incite them further. You owled it back to them, but not before shoving a small slip of parchment in it and sealing it back.

You intend on doing some more wallowing the next day, but when you wake up, you see that it's just too nice of a day outside for someone to stay locked up inside whole day. So instead, you quickly get ready and decide to take a quick walk outside.

The air is warm, and there is a slight breeze rustling the leaves on the tree branches. You decide to go to the nearby park, the same one where you and Petunia used to go when you were children. As you neared it, you could hear the yells and giggles that belonged to the small children who were playing. You pass through the back, and head straight for one of the giant trees. You always liked to come here. It was the perfect place to think or relax and escape this world.

You sat underneath one of the trees, your legs stretched out beneath you and your back pressed against its trunk. You close your eyes and lean your head back, just sitting there and doing nothing.

It could have been a few seconds or minutes or even hours which had passed before you were interrupted before you finally moved.

You shifted a bit as a shadow was suddenly cast across your form before opening your eyes. You're surprised to see who it was that interrupted you.

"What do you want Snape?" you hiss, sitting up. You move your hand to cover the handle of your wand in case he made any move to threaten you.

"You shouldn't be out alone, Lily. Especially in times like these," he said in a low voice, completely ignoring your question.

"Why not? Are your little Death Eater buddies going to jump out from behind a tree and attack me?" you snap.

"No-" He begins

"Then why shouldn't I?"

"That's beside the point," he says hurriedly, his words flowing into one another as he speaks. "The point is, is that you should go home where you'll be safer."

"Safer?" you snort incredulously. "Safer from what, Sev? Or did you forget that I too am a Mudblood? I'm the reason that this damn war was started in the first place!" You were angry; the feeling was exhilarating. It was the first time since the wedding that you are feeling anything other than sadness and despair. You pray that the feeling does not go away anytime soon.

"But it's not your fault; the prejudice between purebloods and muggleborns has always been there, even before you. All purebloods are just arrogant enough to think that if your blood can't be traced back half a millennium then you're no better than the dirt beneath their precious feet," Severus says harshly

"Not all purebloods think like that," you mutter unthinkingly. You instantly regret saying anything once you his face go blank and his lips curl back in to a distasteful sneer. Muted anger raged behind his irises, just barely contained as his hands clench at his sides when he ways,

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. You've gotten quite cosy with Potter and Black over the past few weeks haven't you?"

Your temper flares. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he says, rolling his eyes, indicating that it was in fact something. "It's just that there are so many rumours going around between you and those two, Lily."

You give a short laugh, though there was no humour in it. "I thought you didn't care for the rumour mill, Sev."

He coloured slightly. "I don't," he mutters.

"Well, it seems that you've been spending a lot of time trying to find out information about me and the boys for someone who 'doesn't care'," you taunt.

He stiffens. "I never thought you'd do something like that Lily. Hanging out with the likes of Potter and Black," he shakes his head. "I thought you had more sense, especially after what they did to you. What they did to me. But I guess I was wrong, wasn't I? You've become just as infatuated with them as the rest of Hogwarts. Honestly Lily; remember when you saw them for what they are? Nothing more than a pair of troublemaking idiots with mediocre talent and a pureblood name," he hisses.

"You know that there's more to them than just that," you snap, defending Sirius's character… and Potter's too, you guess.

"Of course you'd say that," he sneers, rolling his eyes. "Everyone in the school knows that you're one of Potter's little whores now."

"I- what?" you say taken aback.

Snape goes on, apparently either not hearing you or ignoring you. You think that it's more likely the latter. "Although, some may say that things are going on between you and Black, but the majority agrees that they're… sharing you somehow. I doubt that that's true; after all, I don't think Potter even knows the meaning of sha-"

_Smack!_

His face was still turned away from you, a small red handprint quickly blossoming on his cheek. You stand up, nearly shaking with rage, with your fists curled tightly at your sides. Your eyes were blazing and even you could hear the barely suppressed anger in your voice as you said through clenched teeth, "Get out of here Snivellus, before I curse you into the giant snake you are."

He glares at you, anger and some other unidentifiable feeling swirling around in his eyes. "Whatever Lily," he says, "It's just so nice to see my friend become as cowardly as Potter and Black."

"We are not friends, Snape," you say harshly. "Not anymore. You chose your side and I chose mine. We're not friends." You turn to leave, pausing when he speaks again.

"So that's it then?" he asks, his eyes narrowed at you. "What happened to the real Lily Evans? The one who actually knew wrong from right?"

"The same thing that happened to you; she grew up and everything changed."

"Well it certainly wasn't for the better," he scoffs. "After all, look at where it got you; crying in the park because Playboy Potter broke your little heart. Pathetic."

You stiffened. "How do you know that?" you breathe.

"Because I know you, Lily," He said simply. "You're easy to read. And like I said, it's pathetic how Potter's reduced you to a snivelling fool. I thought you were better than that. Not as weak as those others. But I guess I was wrong. I thought I actually knew you."

"You don't know me anymore, Snape. You stopped knowing the moment you said those words out there by the lake," you mutter angrily.

Not even waiting to hear what else he had to say this time, you swept out of the park. Of you still could tell right from wrong! How dare he insinuate that you don't anymore just because you've began to hang out with Sirius and Potter. That was a tad bit hypocritical of him wasn't it? Especially considering the type of company _he_ kept. And then he had the nerve to call you pathetic and weak! You sigh. You really are fed up of Severus Snape.

You walk back home- stomp really; you need a way to get rid of your frustration. Once you're home, you head straight to the kitchen, grab a spoon and then grab the carton of ice cream from the freezer before heading back up to your room.

So much for a lovely day.

* * *

You spend the rest of the day milling around the house, watching some television, reading a bit and finishing up your summer homework. However, even through all of this, what Snape said keeps on going through your head. Are you really that pathetic and weak for crying over Potter? For spending the last week cooped up in your room, never setting foot outside the house because you didn't want to face people? Maybe Snape is right…

No.

He's not right.

You're Lily Evans! You're not weak and pathetic! How many times have people told you that you're a handful and a spitfire? Would you have been made a prefect if you were weak and pathetic? No. You're Lily Evans. You're strong and tough.

With that in mind, you sit down and quickly pen a letter to Mary and Marlene, asking them if they want to head to Diagon Alley tomorrow. You tie it to Athena and watch as she flies out the window, quickly becoming nothing more than a grey smudge against the blue sky. Mary doesn't live that far from you, so you hope that Athena would be back by this evening.

You go downstairs and watch some more television before getting up to start preparing dinner, hoping to surprise your mother. She and your dad had gone to the doctors for a check up and then to pick up some things at the grocery. They also promised Petunia that they'd see about her plants while she and Vernon were on their Honeymoon. Long story short, they'd be out whole day, leaving you to your own devices.

You're standing at the stove, stirring the pot of potatoes when Athena flies back in through the open window. She hoots happily, flying around in two circles before landing on your shoulder. She squeezes your shoulder slightly before sticking out her leg and hooting proudly. You absentmindedly stroke her feathers as you unroll the roll of parchment from her leg, scanning it through.

"Lily?" You turn quickly, startling Athena who squawks angrily at you as she flies around the room.

"Sorry!" you tell her. She simply fixes you with a glare- can owls even glare?- before hooting importantly and flying through the open window.

"Hi mum," you say sheepishly, turning around, passing a hand through your hair. The mass of red curls has become tangled and messy due to your neglect of it over the past couple of days.

"What are you doing?" your mum asks, coming into the room and placing a bag of groceries on the counter. Your dad walks in a few seconds later, holding another.

"Oh! Um… I was making dinner," you say, a faint blush beginning to stain your cheeks.

"Really?" she asks doubtfully. She walks over to the stove and lifts the cover. Her expression morphs into one of surprise. "Oh."

"I can cook, mother; I'm not that hopeless," you sniff, crossing your arms across your chest, pretending to look hurt.

"We know that, but we have to be careful with you; you are the same girl who burnt water," your dad says, smiling at you.

"That was one time!"

"Twice actually," your mum corrected.

"Whatever," you grumbled, looking away, fighting the smile threatening to show on your face.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get cleaned up?" your mum says. "I'll finish up here."

You shrug, exiting the kitchen, pausing to give you dad a hug before going back up to your room. You grab your towel and then some clothes from the pile atop your chair. However, you accidently knocked off one of the Witch Weekly magazines that Mary had brought over while she and Marlene were trying to cheer you up. You never read those things though. You actually think that they are a bit worthless to be honest and prefer to spend your time making fun of the material than actually taking time to absorb it. You pick it up and leave it on you desk before heading of to shower.

After washing and conditioning your hair twice, you returned to your room. Apparently your hair was hell bent on staying in tangled curls. Maybe, you thought as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, it was time to tweak your appearance a bit. After all, you thought, fingering your wand, you aren't going to do anything overly drastic… just straighten it a bit.

You glance at the model on the cover of Witch Weekly, who was winking slyly at you as her straight flaxen hair was pulled over her shoulder. Closing your eyes, you wave your wand and mutter an incantation under your breath. When you opened your eyes, you hair was no longer in its usual curls that ended right under your shoulder. Instead, it hung in straight sheets right down your back, stopping somewhere around your waist. You look at it critically from all angles. It looks… good. Pleased with your results, you quickly tie it up in a ponytail and head downstairs.

Dinner was a quiet affair. No one made any comments about your new hairstyle other than your mother who simply raised her eyebrows to which you respond with another shrug. Once dinner is finished, you turn to your parents and say, "I'm going out with Mary and Marlene tomorrow. We're going to get school things."

"You got your booklist?" your mum asks.

You hesitate. "Well, not exactly-"

"Then how'd you know what books to get?" your mum presses further.

"I was going to see if I could borrow Mary's or Marlene's, mum."

"But what it-"

"Oh Rose, leave the child be. Let her go out with her friends. I'm sure they won't get up to trouble," you dad says. You flash him a grateful smile, which he returns wholeheartedly.

"Alright," you mother sighs, "I'll give you some money in the morning."

"Kay, thanks mum!" you say, as you put your dishes in the sink before dashing upstairs. It is rather strange that your Hogwarts letter isn't here as yet, but you just shrug it off. It'll get here soon.

* * *

The next morning, you wake up and quickly get ready, putting on a simple pair of jeans and a t shirt, leaving your hair down. You told Marlene and Mary that you'd meet them at the Leaky Cauldron at eight. It is already seven thirty. You cast another straightening charm on your hair before going downstairs to eat breakfast. Once you're done, you take the money that your mother left for you on the table and place it in your purse. You'll convert it at Gringott's later.

"Bye mum! Bye dad!" you yell as you run out of the house. You think that you heard a muffled 'bye' from your parents' bedroom, but you can't be sure. Checking to make sure no one was looking, you quickly apparate, appearing in front of the Leaky Cauldron. You quickly duck into the building. It's empty, save for three or four witches and wizards milling about, along with Tom, the barkeep.

You frown at the lack of people; usually the place was buzzing with activity, especially during the summer. But now, there are a significantly less people than ever, a fact which you attributed to the war. You sigh, before putting on a smile and walking over to the counter.

"Morning Tom," you say cheerily as you slid onto a bar stool. He nods in response, wiping a glass and setting it down in front of you.

"What'd it be?" he asks.

"Um, pumpkin juice please," you reply. He reaches under the counter and pulls out a bottle of the orange coloured drink and pours it out into your glass. You mutter you thanks.

You stay there and sip your drink, casually observing the characters that pass through the bar, glimpsing at the clock ever so often.

Only a few minutes later did you sense someone's presence behind you.

"…_Lily?_" a familiar voice asks. You turn around and see Mary and Marlene standing behind you, staring at your hair.

"Hi," you grin. You flick your hair over your shoulder. "You like it?"

"It looks…" Mary starts.

"Amazing!" Marlene finishes.

You grin again. "Thanks. So are you ready?"

"Sure," they both reply.

"Great." You turn around and down the rest of your drink before fishing around in your purse for some sickles. Once you found them, you grab them and placed some on the counter by your empty glass.

"I have to go to Gringott's to change some muggle money," you tell them. "By the way, did you all get your booklists as yet?" They nod, making you frown. "That's strange; I didn't get mine."

"It's probably just a bit late," Marlene says to reassure me.

"That's what I thought too," you reply. "Can I borrow yours then? We're doing the same subjects, more or less."

"Sure," she and Mary say.

And with that, you all head to the back of the bar and into Diagon Alley.

The trip was fun, to say the least. You got all of your books, potion supplies, stationery, a box of owl treats for Athena and even a few new tops that Mary persuaded you to buy. You tried not to frown at the tense atmosphere. The feeling of despair hung over the alley like a gigantic, suffocating cloud, while the presence of fear was easily seen in how everyone moved in groups not stopping to talk to anyone all whilst continuously glancing over their shoulders.

You tried to ignore it and focus on the fact that you, Mary and Marlene were here and were supposed to be having fun. However, you knew that they kept on watching you though. You didn't blame them; last time they saw you, you were a crying mess who kept on yelling and throwing things and now you're here smiling and laughing with completely different hair. What caused the complete turn around?

You all decide to stop for ice cream before you go back home. You take this opportunity to tell them the conversation between you and Snape. When you're done, Mary immediately jumps up and sneers, "That slimy little cockroach!" while Marlene just looks downright murderous.

"Relax," you tell them, trying to calm them down. "After all, his little…er, discussion, is what made get over myself."

Marlene frowns. "It's not the best reason to get back, but I guess it'll work." She throws and arm around you. "I missed this Lily."

Mary follows suit. "So did I," she says, squeezing your shoulder. You smile at both of them.

"Thanks," you reply, before changing the topic, asking them the first question that popped into your head. "So who'd you think is going to be Heads?"

"Definitely Davey Gudgeon and you," Mary says immediately.

You wrinkle your nose. "Me? I could understand Gudgeon, but really, me?"

"Yeah; you're smart and you were a prefect. Plus you're responsible and-"

"Who do you think is going to be Heads, Marlene?" you ask, turning to the girl in question, cutting off Mary. You face was beginning to get hot.

"Hmm…what about Karen Walker for Head Girl and Lupin for Head Boy?"

"Walker?" Mary asks, wrinkling her nose. "The Hufflepuff? But she's a slag!"

"No she's not!" replies Marlene. "She's actually really nice. And she's really smart. Isn't she Lils?"

"Well," you bite your lip. "I don't really know her that well."

The three of you continued debating on who would get the positions as you continued to eat your ice cream. Eventually, long after the ice cream was done, you decide it's time to go.

"Let's go back home before it gets dark." The three of you get up, grabbing your bags, and head back to the Leaky Cauldron. You nod at Tom on your way out.

"Bye," Mary says as she and Marlene give you a hug. You return their hugs before walking over to the nearby alleyway. You give them one last wave before apparating back home.

* * *

The next morning you wake up later than you have for the past week. You make your way downstairs, yawning after getting your first goodnight sleep since the wedding.

"Morning mum," you say groggily as you slide in to your chair at the table. Your dad isn't present; you think that he's still upstairs.

"Hello Lily," she replies as places a plate of pancakes in front of you. The sight of food immediately gets you out of your sleep induced stupor. You immediately grab the plate and serve yourself two, dousing them in sticky syrup, and pour out some milk in a glass before hungrily digging in. Last night after you had returned home you didn't anything for dinner, save for a slice of bread and butter as you were still full from the ice cream you, Mary and Marlene had eaten.

You were halfway through your breakfast, when an owl swooped in and perched itself on your chair, hooting as it stuck out its foot.

"About bloody time," you grumbled under your breath, as you untied the letter from its leg. The owl seemed to glare at you. "What?" you asked. "I went shopping yesterday! It would have been nice to have my booklist then!"

The owl hooted angrily and ruffled its feathers.

"Hey! Don't act all 'holier than thou' with me-"

"Lily dear," your mum cuts in. "You do realise that you're talking to an owl, right?"

You glare at her, pouting slightly. "I am perfectly sane, if that's what your insinuating, mother," you sniffed disdainfully as your fingers continued to work at the knot.

"Of course you are darling," your mother coos, patting your head.

You take the letter from the owl. It ruffled it feathers once more, and with a superior look, it took off through the window. "Bloody bird," you hiss angrily.

"Language Lily," your mother warns.

"Sorry," you say automatically. You decide that you'll open the letter after you're done eating; after all, you already got all your books. You don't need the letter again. You toss it on to the table, intending on going back to your breakfast when a loud thump stops you. You freeze.

"What was that?" asks your mum, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she came over by you.

"I- I don't know," you reply. That's a lie. You _do_ know. You just can't believe it.

With a slightly shaky hand, you pick up the little once more, this time filled with dread. You open the letter and out falls a little golden badge with the letters 'HG' carved into it. Dropping the badge as though it burnt you, you pull out the two sheets of parchment. The first one was your booklist, which hastily glance at before shoving it away and grabbing the next one.

_Dear Ms Evans,_

_Congratulations on earning the position of Head Girl. You have been given this coveted title…_

The rest of the words become a blur in your mind, making no sense to you.

"Lily?" you mum asks concerned. "Are you-"

"I got Head Girl," you blurt out.

"Oh! That's wonderful!" she says happily, hugging you. "My daughter, the Head Girl. I'm going to have to make you something special for dinner. Go upstairs and tell your father." She ushers you out of the kitchen, ignoring you half eaten breakfast, which lay abandoned on the table.

You honestly can't believe that you got Head Girl. All those things that Mary said to you yesterday comes flooding back in your head as your slowly trudge up the stairs. Smart, Responsible and you were a prefect. You guess that you were pretty smart, although the only classes that you top in were Charms and Potions. In Charms Remus and Potter were right behind you, while in Potions, you were tied with Snape. Other than those two, you're not top in anything else. And responsible? Psh, maybe you were in your first few years of school, but now you're just like the rest of them, rushing down essays and assignments last minute. You are not responsible the slightest. And your previously being a prefect doesn't mean whit. All you had to do was patrol corridors at night and help other students. Anyone could do that.

You sigh. Hopefully the Head Boy was Gudgeon. He'd be able to manage with everything while you crumble under the stress. At least one of you should be competent in the position. You make a mental note to add that in you letter to Mary and Marlene. They ought to know who the Head Boy was.

* * *

**_Meh._**

**_Review? :)_**

**_~twilightstargazer_**


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